3   1822  01146  1159 


STEPHEN  K.  SZYMANOWSKi 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


earcfters 


BY 

STEPHEN   K.  SZYMANOWSK1 


ILLUSTRATED 


'Homo  sum  nihilque  humani  alienum  me  esse  puto" 


SOUTHERN     CALIFORNIA     PRINTING    CO.,    PUBLISHERS 
LOS  ANGELES 

1908 


Copyright,  1908 
by  Stephen  K.  Szymanowiki 


Al!  rights  reserved 

iv 


THE    CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PERPLEXITIES    OF    A    YOUNG     LAWYER          .  .  I 

CHAPTER  II. 

ON   THE   SHORES  OF   LAKE   TAHOE          .  .  .  .1.3 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  EBELL 44 

CHAPTER  IV. 

MISS   VIRGINIA   AT    HOME 56 

CHAPTER  V. 

GLADSTON  FAMILY 74 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  SCIENTIFIC  HOUSEWARMING          .  gi 

CHAPTER  VII. 

MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS 129 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION         .          .          .     1 68 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    FIRST    MEETING 194 

CHAPTER  X. 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  DISCOVERY  2OiS 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL      ....  226 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LOST  CHILD 250 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  READING  OE  THE  DOCUMENT 270 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

EPILOGUE 294 


vi 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


I.    WESTLAKE  PARK  AS  SEEN  FROM  MR.  MILTON  S  HOUSE. 

2.  SHAKESPEARE  CUFF,  ON   WHICH  IS  FOUND  THE  PRO 

FILE  OF  THE  ENGLISH  PLAY  WRITER. 

3.  EBELL   CLUB    HOUSE   ON    FIGUEROA    STREET. 

4.  TALLAC    MOUNTAIN    VIEWED    FROM    LAKE    TAHOE. 

5.  ADAMS   STREET. 

6.  MISS   VIRGINIA   IN    HER   EIGHTEENTH    YEAR. 

7.  ONE  OF  THE  SEVERAL  OSTRICH   FARMS  IN  THE  VICIN 

ITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 

8.  MOUNT   LOWE. 

9.  RUBIO    CANYON. 


vii 


PREFACE 

The  scientific  arguments  advanced  in  this  volume  are 
strictly  in  conformity  with  the  authoritative  sources  of 
modern  science. 

In  the  seventh  chapter  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  using 
freely  the  exceedingly  valuable  views  of  the  great  French 
philosopher,  Camille  Flammarion,  whose  authority  on 
matters  pertaining  to  scientific  researches  unquestionably 
stands  amongst  the  highest. 

STEPHEN  K.  SZYMANOWSKI. 


Los  Angeles,  California. 
April    1 5th,    1908. 


ix 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 


Mr.  Milton  was  sitting  in  the  library  of  his  home,  sit 
uated  on  the  prominently  elevated  grounds  facing  the 
beautiful  landscape  of  West  Lake  Park,  in  the  city  of 
Los  Angeles.  He  evidently  was  deeply  interested  in  his 
reading,  for  he  had  on  his  desk  a  big  pile  of  papers 
which  he  was  perusing  with  unusual  avidity.  To  an  ob 
server,  his  face  was  an  expression  of  amazement  and  sur 
prise.  He  had  brought  these  papers  home,  in  order  to 
give  to  the  matter  a  special  and  careful  attention;  for 
this  was  a  very  extraordinary  case  for  him  indeed.  He 
had  to  defend  a  young  girl  who  had  committed  forgery. 
She  had  succeeded  in  passing  forged  checks,  and  had  col 
lected  money  from  several  banking  houses  in  the  city ; 
but  owing  to  her  lack  of  experience,  she  did  not  succeed 
in  keeping  herself  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  law.  She 
was  suspected,  and  after  a  sufficient  amount  of  evidence 
was  gathered  by  the  detectives,  she  was  brought  before 
the  justice  and  kept  in  custody  awaiting  her  trial.  The 
main  thing  that  greatly  disturbed  this  young  lawyer  was 
his  inability  to  find  a  ground  for  the  defence.  There 
was  no  indication  of  erratic  abnormality  in  the  character 
of  the  girl,  and  he  could  not  admit  the  possibility  of  in- 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


tentional  malice.  At  the  time  of  the  arrest  of  the  sup 
posed  culprit,  the  newspapers  spoke  of  her  as  of  an  un 
usual  phenomenon.  They  had  discovered  that  she  was 
known  to  be  a  personification  of  modesty  and  domestic 
virtues.  Besides,  she  was  a  zealous  Sunday  school 
teacher,  and  as  such  very  much  admired  for  her  Christian 
qualities  by  those  who  knew  her;  so  much  so,  that  even 
after  the  above  described  fact  was  known  to  them,  they 
could  not  say  enough  good  things  in  her  favor;  and  what 
was  more  striking,  there  was  no  evident  reason  for  com 
mitting  this  forgery  except  that  she  was  poor  and  in 
need  of  money  as  any  other  girl  would  be  under  such 
circumstances.  But  this  girl  was  not  like  any  other.  Ac 
cording  to  Mr.  Milton's  conclusions,  many  other  girls 
could  possibly  commit  a  similar  forgery,  but  he  could 
not  admit  for  one  moment  that  this  particular  girl  could 
db  such  a  thing.  This  conclusion  was  based  on  a  care 
ful  study  of  the  life  and  habits  of  the  girl ;  and  yet  he 
had  to  acknowledge  the  fact  that  the  forgery  was  actually 
committed  by  the  very  person  he  thought  unable  to  do 
such  a  thing;  and  of  course  there  was  a  cause  for  it. 
Now  the  problem  before  him  was  to  find  that  cause  and 
when  such  a  thing  was  found,  to  define  whether  it  was 
intentional  or  compulsive  in  any  shape  or  manner.  If  in 
tentional,  it  would  necessarily  follow  that  there  was 
"knowledge,"  and  "will"  preceding  the  committed  act ; 
but  this  seemed  to  Mr.  Milton  an  absurd  admission;  for 
there  was  no  indication  to  that  effect.  If  on  the  other  hand 
the  cause  was  compulsive,  the  nature  of  it  must  be  well 
studied  and  well  pondered  in  order  to  see  in  what  degree 
the  girl  could  be  held  responsible  for  the  act  committed 
under  the  pressure  of  compulsion. 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 

There  were  two  important  reasons  that  made  Mr. 
Milton  take  such  a  great  interest  in  the  matter;  one  was 
the  case  itself  representing  a  great  study  in  matters 
human,  and  the  other  the  fact  that  he  was  appointed  by 
the  Court  to  defend  the  girl,  who  being  poor  could  not 
afford  to  engage  a  lawyer.  The  Court  possibly  could 
not  have  acted  in  this  case  more  wisely.  By  appointing 
Mr.  Milton,  it  had  selected  a  man  who  was  widely  known 
for  his  great  ability  in  handling  the  most  complicated 
cases.  Though  young,  being  but  thirty-six  years  of  age, 
Mr.  Milton  had  very  often  displayed  a  great  deal  of  re 
fined  ingenuity  in  practicing  his  profession.  This  un 
doubtedly  was  in  a  great  measure  due  to  his  careful 
training  in  the  science  of  jurisprudence,  which  he  unceas 
ingly  cultivated  with  untiring  persistency;  and  partly  also 
to  his  mind,  strongly  gifted  with  a  powerful  analytical 
ability. 

The  construction  of  jurisprudence  greatly  resembles 
that  of  any  machinery  destined  to  perform  a  certain  de 
sired  act.  That  machinery  must  be  necessarily  from 
time  to  time  brought  to  a  certain  perfection  in  order 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  time  and  material.  Con 
sidering  the  above,  we  can  easily  perceive  that  in  both 
cases — in  machinery  as  well  as  in  making  and  applying 
laws,  we  need  men,  and  usually  we  have  them,  who  make 
it  their  business  to  inquire  as  to  why,  what-for,  wherefore- 
and  ordinarily  they  succeed  in  finding  some  solution  of 
the  case  and  thus  unravel  the  task  on  hand.  These  are 
men  gifted  with  analytical  power,  and  to  this  class  Mr. 
Milton  belonged. 

Besides,  Mr.  Milton's  early  education  and  especially 
his  home  training  had  most  assuredly  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  the  development  of  his  manhood. 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


As  a  general  rule  we  are  apt  to  believe  that  children 
represent  a  counterpart  of  their  parents,  inasmuch  as 
they  follow  them  in  their  occupation  and  mode  of  life. 
This  belief  is  based  on  the  fact  that  we  see  many  living 
pictures  exemplifying  the  above  assertion;  but  we  also 
often  see  that  a  herdsman's  son  does  not  always  follow 
the  trade  of  his  father,  for  many  of  them  are  known 
who  have  become  very  prominent  in  different  branches 
of  science.  This  was  exactly  the  case  with  Mr.  Milton. 
He  did  not  follow  his  father's  occupation. 

His  father,  Oscar  Milton,  was  a  banker  by  inclination. 
Originally  he  had  studied  medicine,  intending  to  devote 
his  time  entirely  to  this  branch  of  activity;  but  shortly 
after  he  had  started  his  practice  in  his  native  city  of 
New  York,  he  discovered  that  he  was  not  adapted  for 
his  chosen  profession,  and  following  his  personal  inclina 
tion  he  readily  entered  the  arena  of  speculation.  There 
he  met  with  such  great  success,  that  his  ^Esculapian  dig 
nity  faded  at  once  and  disappeared  forever,  and  event 
ually  Mr.  Oscar  Milton  crystallized  his  activity  into  the 
shape  of  a  practical  banker. 

It  was  not  necessarily  due  to  this  transformation  of  a 
doctor  into  a  banker,  that  his  family  affairs  were  a  series 
of  happy  experiences.  He  married  a  very  charming  and 
intelligent  lady,  whose  special  merit  consisted  in  the  fact 
that  she  knew  and  understood  perfectly  well  her  position 
of  a  wife  and  that  of  a  mother,  and  acted  accordingly. 
This  brought  a  wholesome  atmosphere  into  the  home  life 
of  Mr.  Oscar  Milton,  and  shortly  the  crowning  culmina 
tion  came,  when  a  healthy  nine  pound  boy  made  his  ap 
pearance  and  created  a  turbulent  joy  in  the  young  and 
loving  couple.  He  was  destined  to  be  the  only  com- 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 


mander  in  the  family.  Both  father  and  mother  idolized 
this  only  son,  and  they  thought  and  firmly  believed  that 
this  was  the  prettiest  little  chap  in  the  whole  Universe. 
When  time  came  for  his  education,  they  spared  nothing 
in  educating  the  little  master.  Mrs.  Milton  being  quite 
familiar  with  the  principles  of  modern  pedagogy  and  in 
spired  by  her  motherly  love,  adopted  a  happy  system  for 
the  education  of  her  son,  and  she  succeeded  wonderfully 
well  in  building  up  a  durable  foundation  in  the  heart  of 
the  little  one  by  persistently  cultivating  in  him  principles 
of  kindness  and  love  for  all;  for  she  loudly  professed  that 
without  love  and  kindness  there  was  little  hope  for  other 
virtues;  and  this  was  indeed  a  great  factor  for  the  up 
building  of  the  coming  man.  Thus,  the  loving  mother 
and  intelligent  woman  built  the  foundation,  and  the  father 
and  banker  furnished  the  rest,  and  thus,  little  James  grew 
in  opulence  of  ethical  culture  and  knowledge. 

\Vhen  he  had  graduated  from  the  school  in  his  native 
city  of  New  York,  and  the  time  came  to  select  a  specific 
line  of  higher  studies,  he  entered  Yale  University  as  a 
student  of  law,  which  he  absorbed  with  the  power  and 
ability  of  a  well  developed  young  man  of  two  and  twenty. 
His  graduation  and  subsequent  admission  to  the  bar  was 
another  and  entirely  new  source  of  joy  for  the  banker 
Oscar  Milton  and  his  wife  Emily  Milton  nee  Holmes. 
But  James  Milton  did  not  think  he  had  acquired  all  the 
wisdom,  for  he  had  discovered  that  he  had  a  great  in 
clination  for  the  study  of  philology,  and  with  the  ap 
proval  and  consent  of  both  his  parents,  he  established  him 
self  in  Paris,  France,  as  a  student  of  Oriental  or  Semitic 
languages  in  the  old  university  of  Sorbonne. 

It  was  while  this  young  American  lawyer  and  linguist 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


was  monopolizing  the  admiration  of  both  fellow  students 
and  his  professor,  Monsieur  Ferrier,  for  the  extraordi 
nary  abilities  he  had  displayed  in  acquiring  those  partly 
dead  languages,  that  unexpectedly  he  received  a  cable 
gram  from  his  mother  stating  that  his  father  was  danger 
ously  ill  and  that  his  presence  in  New  York  was  desired. 
The  first  steamer  leaving  the  shore  of  France  brought 
young  James  to  his  native  country;  and  when  his  coach 
man  made  his  appearance  on  the  pier  of  New  York 
harbor  all  alone  to  meet  him,  he  easily  divined  that  there 
was  something  wrong  at  home.  Shortly  he  faced  his 
mother  in  deep  mourning,  and  kissing  her  hand  reverent 
ly,  and  covering  it  with  warm  tears,  escorted  her  to  the 
same  carriage  that  had  brought  him  home,  and  accord 
ing  to  her  wishes  they  drove  to  the  cemetery.  Here  on 
the  freshly  covered  grave  knelt  mother  and  son  hardly 
able  to  pronounce  a  word,  for  tears  were  the  only  thing 
that  could  give  expression  to  their  untold  grief.  A  few 
days  after  this  pathetic  scene,  Mrs.  Milton  became  ill, 
and  in  a  few  more  days  it  was  necessary  that  she  should 
be  removed  out  of  the  city  where  she  was  born  and  had 
spent  all  the  happy  days  of  her  life.  Several  months 
elapsed  in  anxiety  and  hope  and  finally,  when  Mrs.  Mil 
ton  felt  a  little  stronger,  she  expressed  her  wishes  to  be 
taken  away  to  some  new  place,  that  she  might  no  longer 
see  the  house  and  things  that  would  remind  her  of  her 
beloved  husband.  , 

James  Milton  was  an  ideal  son.  His  devotion  to  his 
mother  had  no  limits;  his  justified  veneration  for  her 
was  an  object  of  admiration  to  all  who  knew  him.  After 
a  short  conference  between  the  mother  and  the  son, 
whose  filial  affection  became  such  a  great  source  of  con- 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 

solation  to  the  mother,  it  was  decided  that  they  would 
remove  to  Chicago.  But  after  a  reasonable  trial  in  that 
city,  Mrs.  Milton  discovered,  that  this  was  not  the  place 
where  she  could  peacefully  live,  and  they  removed  to 
San  Francisco;  and  finally  going  on  a  short  visit  to  Los 
Angeles,  so  strongly  was  Mrs.  Milton  impressed  with 
the  mildness  of  the  climate,  and  especially  with  the  neat 
and  attractive  appearance  of  the  city,  that  she  emphatic 
ally  declared  Chicago  and  San  Francisco  were  both  very 
windy  places,  and  concluded  that  Los  Angeles  was  the 
only  city  where  she  could  live,  and  consequently  a  firm 
decision  was  reached  that  she  would  spend  the  rest  of 
her  life  right  here  in  this  city  of  flowers  and  eternal 
spring.  This  favorable  opinion  of  Mrs.  Milton  about 
her  new  home,  was  corroborated  later  on  by  another 
much  stronger  statement.  After  she  had  for  some  time 
enjoyed  the  beauties  surrounding  her  new  home,  she 
told  confidentially  one  of  her  intimate  lady  friends,  that 
she  thought  it  was  a  great  mistake  of  some  modern 
archaeologists  who  were  trying  to  discover  some  traces 
of  the  terrestrial  paradise  somewhere  near  Babylon,  or 
Bagdad,  as  it  is  called  in  our  days;  for  in  her  estimation 
the  missed  garden  was  right  here  in  Southern  California, 
where  the  city  of  Los  Angeles  flourishes  now;  and  this 
is  how  we  find  Mrs.  Milton  and  her  son,  the  young  law 
yer,  located  in  Los  Angeles. 

A  man  with  good  qualities  always  will  find  a  proper 
recognition  no  matter  whither  he  goes.  With  his  well 
cultured  intellect,  honest  and  upright  character,  Mr.  Mil 
ton  did  not  fail  to  find  a  host  of  admirers  and  cordial 
friends  in  the  city  of  his  new  home;  so  that  at  once  he 
became  a  lion  in  the  circles  of  his  society.  There  was 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


hardly  a  social  function  where  he  was  not  a  welcome 
guest.  The  many  good  qualities  that  Mr.  Milton  pos 
sessed  made  him  feel  at  home  wherever  he  went.  In 
the  circles  of  his  profession  he  was  not  any  the  less  ap 
preciated.  It  is  true  that  the  paths  of  life  are  not  always 
smooth;  here  and  there  one  is  forced  to  face  jealousy 
and  envy,  which  are  characteristic  features  of  small 
minds;  but  Mr.  Milton  was  too  big-hearted  and  broad- 
minded  to  notice  these  petty  plays  of  undersized  men, 
whom  he  usually  met  with  a  good-natured  smile  and  a 
benevolent  expression  of  his  always  sympathetic  looking 
face. 

This  was  the  man  we  found  in  the  library  of  his  home 
engaged  in  reading  the  case  on  hand.  He  was  so  in 
tensely  interested  in  the  matter  that  he  forgot  all  about 
the  time  and  the  place  where  he  was,  and  not  until  he 
saw  a  human  shadow  passing  before  him  did  he  raise 
his  head,  and  directly  he  heard  the  familiar  voice  of  his 
mother  saying; 

"Here  I  come  after  you  myself,  James.  It  seems  you 
did  not  hear  the  maid  calling  you  to  lunch.  I  know  you 
are  very  much  interested  in  this  case  of  yours,  but— 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  dear  mother;"  interrupted  Mr.  Mil 
ton,  "I  was  so  busy,  but  I  am  with  you  immediately." 
Saying  this  he  threw  the  paper  he  had  in  hand  on  the 
desk  and  followed  his  mother  to  the  dining  room.  Hav 
ing  taken  his  usual  seat  opposite  his  mother's  he  con 
tinued  ; 

"Yes,  mother,  you  are  not  mistaken  in  saying  that  I 
am  much  interested  in  this  peculiar  case;  but  after  all, 
it  is  that  same  old  story;  the  more  we  study  human 
nature,  the  more  we  are  baffled  and  the  less  wre  know 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 


what  we  think  we  know.  Poor  girl,  I  know  she  is  an 
innocent  girl,  but  how  cruel ;  you  know,  mother,  the  law 
is  a  barrier  against  all  assumptions  which  are  not  pro 
vided  by  the  jurists.  How  often  innocent  people  are 
subjected  to  cruel  punishments  simply  because  the  de 
fence  cannot  present  an  argument  recognized  by  the  code 
of  practice,  and— 

"And,  I  am  afraid,  my  boy,"  impatiently  replied  Mrs. 
Milton,  "that  you  are  going  too  deep  into  the  matter. 
You  told  me  all  about  the  case,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken 
it  is  a  very  simple  one.  The  girl  committed  forgery,  the 
act  is  there,  and  she  must  suffer  the  consequences.  This 
story  of  her  being  a  personification  of  modesty  and  do 
mestic  virtues,  as  the  newspapers -were  pleased  to  state 
about  her  and  as  you  say  you  are  enabled  to  corroborate 
through  your  investigations,  it  seems  does  not  exist;  for 
if  it  did,  there  would  be  no  crime  committed.  You  re 
member  not  long  ago  we  had  another  pathetic  story  of 
a  young  lady  teacher  in  one  of  our  public  schools,  where 
pupils  attending  her  class  occasionally  missed  little  coins 
they  carried  with  them.  Several  persons  were  implicated 
in  the  case,  and  finally  it  was  discovered,  that  it  was  no 
one  else  but  the  teacher  herself  who  was  stealing  the 
money  of  her  pupils,  for  she  was  caught  in  the  act  by  the 
school  authorities,  but  fortunately  for  her,  the  case  did 
not  reach  the  civil  tribunal,  but  was  ended  by  her  dis 
missal  from  the  school.  Now  in  this  case  naturally  you 
would  think  that  the  act  was  highly  abnormal  and  im 
possible  for  admission  in  a  person  of  culture  and  refine 
ment  such  as  her  occupation  would  naturally  suggest; 
yet  the  fact  was  there." 

"Exactly,   and   that   is  just   the   point   that   we  must 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


consider;"  replied  Mr.  Milton,  and  contemplatively 
added;  "Were  the  forgery  committed  by  a  skilled  man 
or  a  corrupt  woman,  we  would  not  be  so  strongly  im 
pressed;  because  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  of  these 
crimes  nearly  every  day.  They  do  not  interest  us,  be 
cause  seemingly  we  know  of  their  origin  and  causes. 
So  with  the  thievery  committed  by  the  school  teacher. 
Were  that  money  stolen  by  some  of  the  pupils,  or  the 
janitor  of  the  school,  or  finally  by  some  outside  intruder, 
it  would  be  different;  but  as  it  is,  there  is  a  figure  of  a 
teacher,  a  girl  naturally  modest,  an  educator  by  inclina 
tion,  a  lover  of  learning  and  all  things  noble  and  lofty, 
and,  here  comes  the  question,  how  in  the  world  are  we 
to  combine  these  contradictory  principles  in  one  person-5 
The  solution  of  these  questions  that  I  am  seeking  is  not 
so  much  for  the  purpose  of  finding  an  excuse  for  the 
culprit,  as  for  the  purpose  of  elucidating  the  principles 
involved  in  those  striking  acts  that  we  are  trying  to  solve  ; 
in  other  words,  we  are  asking,  are  these  acts  voluntary 
or  not?  And  before  we  can  answer  this  question  intelli 
gently,  we  are  bound  to  define  what  is  a  voluntary  act; 
is  there  such  a  thing  as  a  voluntary  act  at  all  ?" 

While  Mr.  Milton  \vas  finishing  his  sentence,  the  maid 
appeared  with  a  freshly  made  lettuce  salad,  and  placed 
it  on  the  table. 

Mrs.  Milton  noticing  that  her  son's  attention  was  at 
tracted  by  his  favorite  dish,  smilingly  said ; 

"Yes,  my  son,  your  reasoning  in  jurisprudence  is  very 
instructive,  but  the  salad  is  especially  good  today;  the 
maid  has  prepared  it  strictly  following  my  recipe." 

Mr.  Milton  could  not  help  laughing  heartily,  for  he 
knew  what  the  recipe  in  question  was,  and  said ; 


10 


THE  PERPLEXITIES  OF  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 


"I  am  afraid,  mother,  your  maid  has  great  difficulties 
in  following  your  regulations.  While  I  like  very  much  a 
good  salad  of  your  make,  I  cannot  help  sympathizing 
with  the  maid  who  has  to  summon  a  French  maid  to 
wash  and  dry  the  lettuce,  a  miser  to  pour  vinegar  on  it; 
a  generous  one  to  bestow  the  olive  oil,  and  a  candidate 
for  the  insane  asylum  to  mix  it ;  is  not  this  your  recipe 
for  the  lettuce  salad,  mother?" 

"Well,  yes;"  Mrs.  Milton  answered.  "Undoubtedly 
the  combination  of  those  four  qualities  makes  a  good 
salad.  I  said  qualities,  for  in  this  case  they  are.  You 
notice  how  circumstances  alter  things?  But  I  suppose 
you  are  still  following  your  pet  theory  that  contradictory 
principles  cannot  be  united  in  one  person;  yet  the  fact 
is  here,  and  the  evidence  of  it  is  the  salad ;  it  is  a  mixture 
just  like  that  one  you  have  in  your  case,  and  the  only 
difference  between  the  two  is,  that  one  is  perfectly  deli 
cious,  and  the  other  repulsive  and  perfectly  abominable. 
But,  by  the  way,  to  change  the  subject,  you  did  not  tell 
me  whether  you  have  decided  to  follow  my  wishes  in  re 
gard  to  your  vacation.  I  have  told  you,  that  you  need 
a  little  rest ;  for  you  have  been  working  very  hard  lately, 
and  you  must  go  away  for  a  week  or  two.  As  for  my 
self,  I  cannot  possibly  go.  I  do  not  feel  its  necessity,  and 
besides  I  am  perfectly  happy  right  here  at  home.  It  is 
you  who  need  the  rest,  and  I  hope  you  will  take  it." 

"Yes,  dear  mother;"  interrupted  Mr.  Milton,  "I  will 
do  what  you  say;  but  still  I  have  been  hoping  that  you 
would  go  along  with  me;  for  you  know  well,  mother, 
there  is  nothing  that  makes  me  so  happy  as  your  presence, 
and  besides,  as  you  know  very  little  about  the  northern 
part  of  the  state,  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased  to  see 


11 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


some  portions  of  it,  and  this  thought  made  me  linger 
until  now.  However,  if  you  say  that  you  will  not  go, 
I  will  not  insist  any  more  upon  your  going,  and  will  go 
alone  as  soon  as  I  am  able  to  arrange  matters  on  hand  in 
a  satisfactory  manner,  so  as  to  enable  me  to  enjoy  my 
trip;"  and  saying  this  Mr.  Milton  entered  his  library  to 
continue  his  work. 


12 


CHAPTER  II. 


ON    THE    SHORES    OF   LAKE    TAHOE.(*) 


Among  mountain  lakes,  undoubtedly  Lake  Tahoe  holds 
tirst  place,  being  considered  the  largest  mountain  lake 
in  the  world.  Situated  as  it  is  over  sixty-two  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea  level,  with  its  unusually  clear  waters, 
forming  more  or  less  an  oval  shape,  and  surrounded  by 
the  beautiful  chain  of  Sierra  Nevada  mountains,  the 
Lake  represents  a  most  charming  picture.  On  the 
southern  side,  proudly  rises  with  its  snow-capped  head, 
the  surperb  Tallac  mountain,  reaching  an  altitude  of 
nearly  ten  thousand  feet.  When  we  add  to  this  delight 
ful  location,  its  extremely  varied  flora  in  full  bloom,  with 
its  strongly  colored  w7ild  flowrers,  and  the  rich  thickly 
grown  centennial  pine  trees,  we  can  conceive  an  approxi 
mate  idea  of  the  place.  It  is  a  ravishing  summer  resort, 
and  as  such  is  much  patronized  by  the  people  of  both 
neighboring  states  on  the  boundary  of  which  the  Lake 
is  situated.  On  the  east  side  the  state  of  Nevada,  and 
on  the  west  that  of  California  have  marked  their  line 
almost  in  the  center  of  the  Lake.  But  this  state  line 
which  divides  the  \vaters  exists  only  on  the  geographical 
maps,  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  Lake,  principally  well 
developed  trout,  are  not  aware  of  this  line.  Owing  to 


(*)     Tahoe  is  a  Washoe  Indian  word,  and    means    "great     wa 
ters." 


13 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  effective  work  accomplished  by  the  state  fisheries 
established  on  the  shores,  they  are  to  be  found  in  abun 
dance  wherever  you  look  for  them  all  around  the  Lake, 
and  this  is  one  of  the  greatest  attractions  for  visitors. 
But  when  you  combine  fishing  with  boating  and  moun 
tain  climbing,  the  attractions  of  the  place  become  irre 
sistible.  It  is  easy  to  guess  that  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  visitors  there  are  a  good  many  hostelries,  cottages 
and  camping  tents  around  the  Lake,  amongst  which  the 
Tavern  on  the  north  end,  and  the  Tallac  House  on  the 
south  end  of  the  Lake  are  most  prominent.  The  latter, 
owing  to  its  location,  and  being  in  the  proximity  of  Tal 
lac  Mountain,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  number  of 
smaller  lakes,  is  the  place  which  mostly  attracts  the  at 
tention  of  all  those  who  can  see  the  beauty  in  simple 
things  and  admire  it — a  quality  not  so  frequent  amongst 
tourists. 

Thus,  owing  to  the  attractions  of  the  place,  one  after 
noon  in  the  second  half  of  July,  on  the  red  painted  wide 
porch  of  the  Tallac  House,  we  find  a  picturesque  crowd 
scattered  around  in  different  sized  groups.  Judging  from 
their  animated  conversations  we  cannot  fail  to  notice  the 
fact  that  these  southerners,  most  of  them  inhabitants  of 
the  City  of  the  Angels — although  these  were  not  exactly 
angels — are  representing-  a  very  enthusiastic  class  of  peo 
ple.  They  are  enjoying  immensely  their  presence  on  the 
shores  of  the  Lake,  carefully  planning  how  to  spend  the 
afternoon  hours  and  arranging  for  the  next  day's  ex 
cursions. 

While  all  these  people  are  engaged  in  their  little  af 
fairs,  a  peculiarly  sweet  sound  of  music  is  diffusing  its 
sympathetic  tones  from  the  near-by  hall.  Some  one  is 


14 


ON  THE  SHORES  OP  LAKE  TAHOE. 


playing  a  strange  piece  on  the  piano.  The  passages  are 
in  minor  tones;  they  are  well  defined  and  well  expressed. 
It  seems  like  a  song  of  a  broken-hearted  muse.  No  one 
appears  to  be  paying  any  attention  to  it.  Suddenly  a 
gentleman,  who  up  to  this  time  was  sitting  alone  in  a 
meditative  mood  at  one  end  of  the  porch,  rises  and  slowly 
directs  his  steps  to  the  place  where  the  strange  music 
is  produced. 

From  the  moment  he  heard  the  music,  he  could  not 
keep  in  his  chair.  When  the  opening  passages  reached 
his  ear,  he  thought  he  knew  the  piece,  and  gradually  he 
was  able  to  recognize  it  as  the  fifth  polonaise  of  Oginski, 
known  as  "Les  Adieux."  He  instantly  recollected  that 
he  had  heard  this  in  a  foreign  land  and  never  in  America. 
Yes,  it  was  in  Paris,  while  he  was  attending  the  uni 
versity  there  he  used  to  listen  to  this  music,  played  by  one 
particular  friend  of  his;  but,  is  it  possible?  Can  it  be 
that  this  is  produced  by  the  same  person?  Oh  no,  surely 
this  is  an  illusion;  but,  why  not  verify  it?  Thus  think 
ing,  he  entered  the  hall.  There  he  found  a  middle-aged 
gentleman  just  ending  his  finale.  The  new  comer  could 
not  see  the  face  of  the  one  who  was  playing,  but  his  well- 
shaped  figure  seemed  somewhat  familiar  to  him.  He 
patiently  waited  until  the  last  minor  stroke  had  vanished 
in  the  air,  when  suddenly  the  gentleman  arose  and  turned 
his  face  towards  the  main  door.  At  this  moment  the 
new  comer  swiftly  advanced  and  faced  him  before  he 
had  time  to  leave  the  hall.  They  looked  at  each  other 
attentively  and  in  a  few  seconds  both  faces  expressed  a 
surprise  mixed  with  delight,  and  as  though  by  an  in 
visible  force  their  hands  joined  in  silence. 

"Well,  well,  Count!  is  it  possible?  Is  this  a  dream  or 
a  vision?"  said  the  younger  man. 


15 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Neither  one  nor  the  other,"  replied  the  interlocutor 
smiling.  "It  is  a  very  pleasant  reality.  I  recognize  you, 
my  dear  Mr.  Milton,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  a 
wonder  to  me  that  after  so  many  years  of  separation  you 
should  remember  me." 

"I  recognized  you  the  moment  I  heard  the  first  few 
phrases  of  your  favorite  polonaise,"  replied  Mr.  Milton. 
"You  have  given  to  that  piece  of  music  so  much  of  your 
personality  that  I  would  recognize  your  production  of 
it  amongst  thousands  of  players.  But  after  all  is  it  not 
charming  to  see  you  again,  my  dear  Count  Morat,  and 
see  you  here  in  the  far  west  of  the  United  States !  This 
is  a  perfectly  delightful  surprise  for  me,  but  pray,"  he 
continued,  "let  us  go  to  the  Casino,  where  we  can  find 
a  secluded  corner  for  ourselves ;"  saying  this  the  two 
men  walked  together  to  the  building  mentioned,  located 
a  short  distance  from  the  hostelry. 

The  Casino,  a  very  comfortable  building  for  all  sorts 
of  amusements,  is  located  right  on  the  shore,  having 
Lake  Tahoe  in  full  view.  Its  wide  and  very  comfortable 
porch  was  deserted  at  this  moment.  The  two  old  friends, 
with  gladness  in  their  hearts,  each  took  a  rocker  and  soon 
they  were  seated  in  a  cosy  corner  of  the  porch. 

"And  now,"  impatiently  began  Mr.  Milton,  whom  we 
already  know,  "tell  me,  Count;  tell  me  all  about  your 
self,"  he  went  on,  and  made  a  gesture  as  though  he  in 
tended  to  learn  all  he  wanted  in  a  second.  But  the  Count, 
with  his  usual  calmness,  smiled  pleasantly  and  said; 

"After  all,  my  dear  friend,  you  see  the  world  is  not  so 
big  as  one  might  think;  and  yet,  while  in  Paris,  who  of 
us  would  have  thought  of  such  a  meeting  as  this  ?"  Then 
the  Count  went  on  telling  his  listener  about  his  recent 


16 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


travels  and  experiences  while  touring  around  the  world. 

Mr.  Milton  was  absorbed  in  listening-  to  the  Count, 
who  being  an  excellent  conversationalist  and  possessing 
a  style  of  his  own  in  narrating  his  experiences,  never 
failed  to  captivate  his  hearers.  However,  Mr.  Milton's 
interest  was  not  due  solely  to  the  rhetorical  ability  of  the 
Count.  He  was  interested  for  reasons  of  more  impor 
tance  than  this.  The  Count  was  to  him  a  very  excep 
tional  man,  and  to  say  the  least  a  very  mysterious  one. 

Mr.  Milton  had  met  and  become  acquainted  with  the 
Count  in  Paris,  and  the  mutual  attraction  was  so  strong 
that  in  a  comparatively  short  time  they  became  good 
friends.  The  more  Mr.  Milton  saw  of  the  Count,  the 
better  he  liked  and  admired  him.  In  the  first  place  Mr. 
Milton  was  strongly  impressed  with  the  deep  erudition 
and  versatility  of  the  Count;  besides  he  had  discovered 
in  him  a  perfect  master  of  the  subject  he  was  at  that 
time  studying  at  the  university.  He  had  learned  to  his 
great  satisfaction  that  the  Count  had  spent  many  years 
in  the  orient  studying  the  languages  and  customs  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  cradle  of  Christianity.  This  subject 
was  immensely  interesting  to  Mr.  Milton,  and  noticing 
a  willingness  on  the  part  of  the  Count  to  be  freely  ex 
ploited,  he  did  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  the  offered 
opportunity,  and  gladly  became  a  daily  visitor  to  the 
Count's  apartments  located  on  the  avenue  Friedland 
near  the  Arc  de  Triomphe.  Here  in  a  room  splendidly 
furnished  in  an  entirely  oriental  fashion,  Mr.  Milton 
found  himself  in  an  atmosphere  altogether  foreign  to 
Parisian  life.  This  illusion  became  more  forcible  upon 
the  appearance  of  the  manservant  of  the  Count  dressed 
in  his  native  picturesque  garments;  for  Yonan  was  a 


17 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


native  Chaldean,  who  had  entered  the  service  of  the 
Count  while  the  latter  was  traveling  in  his  country. 
Judging  from  what  Mr.  Milton  saw,  this  manservant, 
Yonan,  was  quite  indispensable  to  the  Count,  and  prob 
ably  owing  to  this  fact,  whether  he  was  wanted  or  not, 
he  was  always  present  busying  himself  around  the  room 
in  an  attitude  indicating  that  he  was  there  in  his  place. 

The  Count  noticing  Mr.  Milton's  surprise  on  that  ac 
count,  once  said  to  him; 

"Do  not  be  surprised,  Mr.  Milton,  that  my  servant  is 
present  whenever  I  am  here.  This  is  an  oriental  custom 
of  a  servant  who  through  many  years  of  faithful  service 
has  acquired  that  privilege  and  has  become  as  though  a 
member  of  my  household.  However,"  he  added,  "Yonan 
does  not  know  much  of  the  languages  we  are  employ 
ing,"  (they  spoke  English  and  sometimes  French),  "so 
there  is  no  danger  of  his  understanding  what  we  say." 

But  this  did  not  annoy  Mr.  Milton  at  all;  on  the  con 
trary,  he  was  glad  to  see  this  Chaldean  there,  for  this  af 
forded  him  a  good  opportunity  to  hear  the  Chaldean 
language  spoken,  when  there  was  something  said  between 
the  Count  and  his  servant.  It  was  a  much  better  lesson, 
he  thought,  than  the  one  he  had  to  listen  to  in  the  Sor- 
bonne  University,  where,  as  we  already  know,  at  that 
time  Mr.  Milton  was  attending  a  course  of  philological 
studies,  consisting  of  Chaldean,  Syrian,  and  Hebrew 
literatures.  But  great  was  his  surprise  to  discover  that 
notwithstanding  his  studies  of  Chaldean,  he  could  not 
understand  a  word  of  what  was  said  between  the  Count 
and  his  servant.  This  however  was  explained  fry  the 
Count  saying  that  the  Chaldean  he  spoke  to  his  servant, 
was  the  modern  Chaldean  language  as  it  is  spoken  by 
the  Chaldean  people  of  today;  which  is  quite  a  different 


18 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


language  from  the  old  Chaldean  and  has  no  literature; 
in  other  words  Chaldeans  of  today  use  the  modern  lan 
guage  in  speaking  and  the  ancient  in  writing. 

In  discussing  this  subject  of  Chaldeans,  it  was  quite 
natural  for  Mr.  Milton  to  ask  the  Count  the  causes  which 
made  him  take  so  much  interest  in  the  Chaldean  people 
and  their  language,  and  finally  to  go  so  far  as  to  choose 
for  his  confidential  servant  one  belonging  to  that  race. 

To  this  query  the  Count  gave  a  short  narrative  con 
sisting  of  the  fact  that  while  he  was  a  young  man,  he 
was  obliged  to  follow  his  elder  brother,  who  being 
interested  in  the  newly  originated  scheme  of  a  railroad 
to  be  built  from  Constantinople  through  Mesopotamia  to 
Bagdad,  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  in  order  to  see  the  country 
and  investigate  the  feasibility  of  the  scheme,  had  gone 
there,  taking  with  him  his  wife  and  only  child;  and  fin 
ally  owing  to  the  lamented  sudden  death  of  his  brother, 
he  was  obliged  to  stay  in  that  country  longer  than  he  had 
anticipated.  But  gradually  this  biblical  country  and  its 
inhabitants  became  a  subject  of  great  interest  to  him. 
Owing  to  this  fact,  he  left  the  city  of  Mosul,  located  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Tigris,  where  old  Nineveh  used 
to  be  and  where  he  had  been  living  sometime,  and  located 
in  a  large  village  known  by  the  name  of  Alkosh,  the 
metropolis  of  the  Chaldean  nation.  This  he  did  for 
several  reasons;  one  was  that  he  wished  to  be  away  from 
the  mixture  of  city  elements  consisting  of  Arabs,  Os- 
manlies  and  half  a  dozen  others.  Secondly,  he  wanted 
to  hear  nothing  but  the  best  Chaldean  language,  and  as 
Alkosh  was  considered  to  be  the  Athens  of  Chaldeans, 
he  established  himself  there;  where  in  a  comparatively 
short  time  he  learned  the  modern  language  spoken  by 


19 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  Chaldeans  and  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  the 
old  Chaldean,  expecting  to  derive  great  benefit  from  this 
quite  ancient  literature.  Besides,  knowing  that  the  Chal 
deans  of  olden  times  were  somewhat  proficient  in  the 
science  of  Astronomy,  he  expected  to  make  some  im 
portant  discovery  in  that  branch  of  science.  But  alas, 
after  several  years  of  diligent  study,  great  was  his  disap 
pointment  when  he  found  that  there  was  nothing  so  in 
teresting  in  the  Chaldean  literature.  He  traversed  several 
times  the  great  distance  between  the  city  of  Mosul  and 
Van,  inhabited  by  the  Chaldean  people.  In  the  Hak- 
karyan  mountains,  south  of  Van,  where  Chaldeans  of 
Nestorian  faith  are  located,  he  found  a  good  many  liter 
ary  treasures  hidden  in  the  dark  corners  of  their  gloomy 
churches,  consisting  of  voluminous  books  written  on 
parchment  by  the  hands  of  the  monks  during  many  cen 
turies.  Amongst  others  in  the  province  of  Baz  he  found 
a  book  written  presumably  in  the  ninth  century  of  our 
era.  In  examining  all  he  had  found  there  or  in  any  other 
part  of  Chaklea,  he  invariably  met  with  the  fact  that  the 
contents  of  these  books  were  of  a  religious  nature,  princi 
pally  consisting  of  ritualistic  prayers  for  every  day  in  the 
year.  Besides  he  had  found  a  good  many  containing 
the  stories  of  monastic  life.  Visions,  traditions,  and  as 
trological  sayings  were  in  abundance.  The  science  of  as 
tronomy  he  found  to  be  in  the  same  condition  it  was 
about  two  thousand  years  ago.  A  well  known  book  by 
the  name  "Mukamat,"  written  by  the  Bishop  of  Nessebin, 
aimed  to  represent  the  richness  of  Chaldean  language  and 
its  elasticity  for  expressions  in  rhythmical  constructions. 
Adding  to  these  a  large  number  of  lives  of  saints,  the 
whole  literature  came  to  an  end,  so  that  for  one  who  was 


20 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOK. 


searching  for  something  representing  scientific  value, 
there  was  nothing  interesting  nor  attractive  in  that  old 
field  of  letters. 

As  for  the  Chaldean  people  the  Count  had  found  them 
in  extreme  ignorance  of  the  most  elementary  things. 
The  only  ones  who  could  read  and  write  were  the  clergy ; 
but  even  they  often  times  were  not  any  better  informed 
than  the  lay  people,  for  they  knew  simply  how  to  read, 
but  most  of  the  time  were  not  able  to  understand  what 
they  did  read,  for  as  we  already  know  their  books  are 
written  in  the  ancient  Chaldean  language  and  that  lan 
guage  is  known  only  to  a  few  scholars. 

Relating  the  above  to  Mr.  Milton,  the  Count  added 
that  after  he  had  learned  the  Chaldean  language  he  read 
the  Bible  in  that  tongue  from  beginning  to  end,  for  the 
first  time,  and  what  mostly  impressed  him  was  the  fact 
that  the  Bible  represented  an  exact  picture  of  the  life 
he  was  leading  amongst  Chaldeans.  There  was  no  neces 
sity  for  any  explanation.  There  were  no  hebraisms  nor 
orientalisms  for  him.  He  read  about  things  just  as  he 
saw  them  in  life,  and  concluded  by  saying,  that  if  one 
wished  to  see  the  Bible  enacted  in  life,  he  could  easily 
witness  it  by  living  for  some  time  amongst  Chaldeans; 
for  nowhere,  and  by  no  nation  are  biblical  characters  pre 
served  so  well,  as  they  are  found  today  amongst  them. 
No  wonder!  Was  not  the  original  Bible  written  in  the 
Chaldean  language? 

As  to  his  servant,  the  Count  said  that  Yonan  had  been 
in  the  service  of  his  elder  brother,  and  for  this  reason 
he  had  retained  him  in  his  own;  besides,  he  had  found 
him  a  good  and  reliable  man  and  that  was  quite  suffi 
cient  reason  for  keeping  him  in  his  household. 


21 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


The  above  narrative  aroused  great  curiosity  in  Mr. 
Milton's  mind,  and  gradually  he  became  more  and  more 
aggressive  with  his  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  life  and 
customs  of  that  biblical  country. 

The  Count  was  perfectly  amazed  at  the  intensity  with 
which  Mr.  Milton  followed  him  in  discussing  these  mat 
ters.  He  could  not  see  what  caused  this  young  American 
lawyer  to  take  such  an  interest  in  the  antiquities  of  Chal 
deans.  But  this  was  cleared  up  by  the  explanation  volun 
tarily  given  by  Mr.  Milton.  He  said  that  while  he  was 
studying  the  law  formulated  by  American  jurisprudence, 
his  mind  incessantly  ran  into  the  analysis  of  the  origin 
and  formation  of  all  laws  governing  mankind.  The 
"why"  which  sprung  up  at  every  new  principle  he  was 
learning  in  the  law,  mercilessly  tortured  him,  until  he 
had  found  some  explanation  which  seemed  to  him  satis 
factory.  In  order  to  proceed  intelligently  he  had  classi 
fied  the  origin  of  laws  in  general,  and  easily  found  that 
there  were  two  evident  sources  from  which  these  laws 
were  derived.  One  was  the  so-called  civil  law,  originated 
and  regulated  by  the  necessity  of  human  life;  and  the 
other  was  the  so-called  divine  law,  having  its  origin  in 
the  revelation  promulgated  in  dark  ages  and  regulated 
by  the  explanatory  codes  of  different  creeds.  As  for  the 
civil  law,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  its  origin  as  well 
as  the  causes  for  its  interpretations  and  consequent  altera 
tions.  It  was  a  human  institution,  for  human  purposes. 
But  when  he  came  to  the  origin  of  the  so-called  divine 
law,  he  invariably  found  himself  in  an  obscurity  beyond 
his  understanding;  for  analyzing  its  workings  at  the 
hands  of  men,  he  came  face  to  face  with  endless  contra 
dictions.  The  divine  law  commandeth  that  there  should 


22 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 

be  no  killing;  it  said  "Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  and  yet  those 
who  preached  this  divine  precept,  when  a  given  opportun 
ity  occured,  did  not  hesitate  to  step  forward  with  en 
couraging  words  against  this  divine  law,  and  with  highly 
demonstrative  ceremonies  they  blessed  the  colors  of  a 
certain  regiment,  imploring  the  Almighty  God — that 
same  God  who  said  "Thou  shalt  not  kill" — to  grant  and 
bestow  upon  that  regiment  a  great  victory ;  and  this  vic 
tory  had  to  come  only  through  the  killing  by  thousands 
and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  mankind ;  and  when  the 
regiment  though  decimated  had  returned  to  the  place 
where  their  flag  was  blessed,  their  victory  was  announced 
with  high  sounding  trumpets,  the  big  bells  of  all  the 
churches  were  joyously  tolled  and  a  solemn  "Te  Deum 
laudamus,"  was  sung.  They  thanked  God  for  helping 
them  to  do  all  the  killing  they  could. 

Here  the  young  enthusiast  stopped  as  though  to  see 
whether  he  had  said  correctly  what  he  wished  to  say,  and 
then  continued ; 

"  'Thou  shalt  not  kill'  has  been  preached  for  centuries ; 
and  yet,  those  who  so  preached,  established  themselves 
at  the  head  of  a  horrid  institution,  whose  business  was 
to  torture  mercilessly,  and  finally  to  put  to  death  those 
who  did  not  believe  the  way  the  preachers  were  believ 
ing.  Again  we  read,"  he  went  on,  "and  incessantly  hear 
from  Christian  pulpits  that  'God  created  man  in  his  own 
image;'  and  that  'All  man  possesseth  cometh  from  God,' 
and  yet,  when  man  followed  his  born-in-him  inclinations, 
he  was  told  that  he  would  be  punished  for  doing  so.  We 
hear  of  the  immutable  and  eternal  laws,  and  yet  when 
we  look  into  the  workings  of  those  laws  at  the  hands 
of  men  who  claim  to  be  the  dispensators  of  all  godly 


23 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


justice,  we  find  them  as  mutable  and  as  changeable  as 
men  themselves  are.  When  I  picture  before  my  eyes," 
Mr.  Milton  went  on,  "the  atrocities  and  barbarisms  com 
mitted  by  those  preaching  charity  and  forgiveness ;  when 
I  go  back  into  the  history  of  nations  and  witness  the  ap 
palling  misdoings  in  the  name  of  God  and  his  church ; 
when  I  see  the  creation  of  the  institutions  such  as  the 
Knights  of  the  Cross,  who  by  fire  and  sword  undertook 
to  accomplish  the  conversion  of  nations;  when  I  gaze  at 
the  indescribable  sufferings  of  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  speechless  children  and  their  prostituted  mothers, 
whose  fathers  and  husbands  became  victims  of  a  horde 
of  savages  covered  with  the  white  cross  on  their  backs , 
I  am  horrified;  and  am  horrified,  because  these  things 
have  been  done,  to  use  the  identical  language  of  the  an 
cients,  'To  glorify  the  name  of  the  Great  God.'  ' 

These  and  similar  meditations — concluded  Mr.  Milton 
— caused  him  to  conceive  the  idea  of  studying  oriental 
languages;  for  he  thought  by  diligently  studying  them 
perhaps  he  could  get  a  better  understanding  of  those 
laws  which  first  were  formulated  and  written  by  the 
orientals,  who  unquestionably  are  the  authors  of  the  laws 
now  claimed  by  the  Christian  churches  as  their  own. 

Listening  attentively  to  what  Mr.  Milton  had  said, 
the  Count  felt  immeasurably  happy  in  making  this  new 
discovery  in  the  young  American  lawyer.  Not  that 
he  thought  Mr.  Milton  had  found  the  philosophers  stone 
by  this  sort  of  peroration,  but  he  could  not  avoid  observ 
ing  the  fact  that  Mr.  Milton  was  on  his  way  to  re 
searches,  and  that  eventually  he  would  in  due  time  be 
come  a  successful  explorer  of  the  truths  dictated  by  the 
Universe  itself.  Needless  to  say,  from  that  time  on  he 


24 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


gladly  offered  Mr.  Milton  all  he  could  from  the  accumu 
lated  knowledge  and  experiences  at  his  command.  This 
discovery  of  Mr.  Milton's  analytical  mind  became  a 
source  of  the  intense  admiration  which  the  Count  had 
conceived  for  him,  and  which  he  could  not  conceal,  and 
consequently  both  men  felt  mutually  attracted  more  than 
ever  before. 

Besides  this  mental  affinity  which  existed  between  the 
two  men,  Mr.  Milton's  interest  in  the  Count  was  aroused 
to  the  highest  pitch  by  the  following  incident : 

One  afternoon  Mr.  Milton  went  to  visit  the  Count,  and 
as  usual  the  Chaldean  met  him  at  the  door.  Mr.  Milton 
had  learned  how  to  salute  the  Chaldean  in  his  own  lan 
guage,  and  said;  "Shlama  loch,"  which  means  "peace 
with  thee,"  and  the  Chaldean  responded  by  saying  the 
customary  "Bsheyna  beshlama,"  and  opened  the  door  to 
the  private  room  of  the  Count,  telling  him  mostly  by 
gesticulation,  that  the  Count  was  for  trie  moment  en 
gaged,  but  that  he  would  be  there  directly.  Mr.  Milton 
understood  what  he  was  told,  and  feeling  somewhat 
nervous,  instead  of  taking  a  seat  as  he  was  asked 
to,  began  to  walk  to  and  fro  in  the  room.  This  room 
was  furnished  very  scrupulously  in  French  style  and 
served  as  a  working  room  for  the  Count.  There  was  a 
modern  desk  near  the  window  and  only  two  but  very 
comfortable  chairs  stood  near  by.  On  the  walls  there 
were  pictures  of  the  times  of  the  second  empire.  In  the 
middle  of  the  room  stood  a  round  table  on  which  he 
found  a  large  sized  package  of  letters,  evidently  recently 
brought  from  the  Post,  for  they  were  still  unopened. 
On  the  top  of  this  package  there  was  a  big  envelope,  on 
which  he  could  not  help  noticing  the  writing  in  large  let- 


25 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


ters  which  read;  "A  Son  Altesse,"  and  then  he  saw  the 
name  "Morat."  Seeing  this  he  began  to  think,  what 
could  be  the  meaning  of  this.  He  well  knew  that  a  Count 
is  never  addressed  "Son  Altesse" — his  highness — for  this 
title  was  accorded  only  to  Princes,  and  his  host  was  but  a 
Count.  This  little  discovery  mystified  Mr.  Milton  very 
much,  and  he  began  to  speculate,  and  finally  he  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  ask  the  Count  about  it.  But 
then  he  thought  how  could  he  ask  the  Count  such  a  ques 
tion?  Would  it  be  proper  to  ask  the  Count  whether  he 
was  a  Count  or  a  Prince?  Oh  no,  this  was  ridiculous; 
and  finally  he  concluded  that  such  a  question  was  alto 
gether  out  of  place,  and  that  by  established  etiquette  he 
was  expected  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  knew  about  the 
Count.  And  yet  he  could  not  stop  the  train  of  his 
thoughts.  He  looked  around  the  room  as  though  search 
ing  for  some  object  which  would  give  him  some  indica 
tion  as  to  the  identity  of  his  mysterious  host,  but  lo, 
there  was  nothing  to  help  him  in  his  researches.  He 
knew  that  the  Count  was  not  a  native  of  France,  al 
though  judging  from  the  perfect  French  he  spoke,  one 
would  not  think  so.  However,  this  fact  did  not  denote 
anything  but  the  extraordinary  ability  of  the  Count  for 
languages;  for  Mr.  Milton  had  heard  him  speaking  sev 
eral  European  and  oriental  languages  with  such  perfec 
tion  that  it  was  a  very  difficult  matter  to  detect  which  of 
these  languages  was  the  one  he  had  learned  first.  Once 
he  had  asked  the  Count  as  to  how  he  succeeded  in  learn 
ing  so  many  languages,  and  to  this  he  answered  that 
there  was  nothing  so  marvellous  about  it,  for  he  had 
known  little  children  in  Constantinople  who  spoke  four 
or  five  languages  before  they  knew  their  alphabet.  Then 


26 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


Mr.  Milton's  mind  ran  along  other  lines  concerning  the 
Count.  He  had  seen  on  several  occasions  strangers  evi 
dently  from  some  far  land  visiting  him.  Their  seclusion 
with  the  Count,  the  secrecy  maintained  about  the  visitors, 
and  all  connected  with  these  visits,  were  so  mysterious, 
so  strange.  One  of  these  occasions  he  remembered  very 
well,  for  it  happened  that  while  Mr.  Milton  was  waiting 
in  the  oriental  room  of  the  Count's  apartments,  he  un 
willingly  overheard  the  conversation  taking  place  in  the 
adjoining  room,  and  which  ran  like  this;  the  visiting 
stranger  was  speaking  with  an  agitation  peculiar  to  ori 
entals,  and  after  he  had  mentioned  several  names  of 
places  and  people  unknown  to  Mr.  Milton,  he  ended  his 
sentence  by  saying;  "And  with  all  of  that,  I  could  not 
find  my  way  clear;  following  your  instructions  I  took 
necessary  steps  and  by  the  express  order  of  the  minis 
tries  of  foreign  affairs,  both  of  the  French  and  the  Eng 
lish  governments,  their  respective  consular  archives  lo 
cated  in  the  city  of  Mosul  were  carefully  examined  and 
no  trace  has  been  found.  Useless  to  say,  the  Turkish  au 
thorities,  notwithstanding  all  our  efforts,  could  not  fur 
nish  even  such  information  as  ordinarily  local  police  are 
capable  of  giving."  This  was  said  in  broken  French,  and 
then  there  was  silence,  followed  with  the  emphatic  voice 
of  the  Count,  who  was  now  speaking  to  his  servant. 
"Yonan,"  he  said,  "it  is  your  fault — your  unpardonable 
fault  is  the  cause  of  these  disastrous  consequences;  why 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord  did  you  not  preserve  the  name, 
once  in  your  possession?"  And  then  followed  a  long  and 
depressing  silence.  On  those  occasions  and  especially  on 
the  occasion  just  mentioned  the  Count  appeared  to  be 
much  annoyed  and  discouraged.  These  symptoms  Mr. 


27 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Milton  could  easily  see  and  read  in  the  countenance  of 
the  Count,  for  he  had  a  very  expressive  face,  and  his  pair 
of  blue  eyes  especially  served  him  as  good  indicators  of 
what  was  going  on  in  his  mind  and  soul.  What  appeared 
to  Mr.  Milton  to  be  most  mysterious  was  the  fact  that 
the  Count  never  spoke  of  himself,  his  family,  or  anything 
that  would  indicate  his  interests  and  aims  in  life.  He 
was  then  a  man  of  forty  summers,  but  his  vigorous  and 
robust  health  made  him  appear  much  younger.  Very  reg 
ular  in  his  mode  of  living  and  his  habits,  he  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  be  ill,  and  this  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
his  youthful  appearance.  The  Count  had  a  very  com 
manding  attitude,  which  was  only  natural  to  him ;  yet 
in  his  relations  with  those  who  came  in  contact  with  him 
he  was  very  kind  and  congenial.  He  was  a  single  man, 
and  seemingly  satisfied  with  his  lot,  provided  he  had  his 
faithful  Yonan  with  him.  This  was  the  picture  of  the 
man  about  whom  Mr.  Milton  wished  to  know  something 
more  than  he  knew  at  the  time  of  his  contemplation. 
One  thing  was  very  sure  in  Mr.  Milton's  mind,  and  that 
was,  that  there  was  another  man  in  this  Count,  and  that 
man  had  a  story  to  tell.  Who  was  that  man,  and  what 
was  his  story?  This  was  what  Mr.  Milton  could  not 
divine.  While  he  was  thus  thinking,  the  Count  entered 
the  room  and  began  to  ask  Mr.  Milton  about  the  lecture 
he  had  been  attending  that  morning  in  the  university.  In 
answer,  Mr.  Milton  narrated  in  a  very  amusing  way, 
that  during  the  session  of  the  class  a  half  hour  had  been 
spent  in  a  discussion  between  the  professor  and  one  of 
the  students,  who  happened  to  be  a  Jew  from  Warsaw, 
as  to  how  the  Chaldean  word  "Topana,"  which  means 
"deluge,"  should  be  pronounced.  Whether  it  was 


28 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


"Tfana,"  "Tafana"  or  "Taufana,"  they  could  not  decide. 
Hearing-  this  the  Count  laughed  heartily,  and  said  neither 
one  of  these  was  correct;  for  the  letter  "f"  did  not  exist 
in  the  Chaldean  alphabet,  nor  the  letter  "p,"  but  that 
there  was  a  letter  somewhat  similar  to  "p"  in  sound,  but 
much  softer,  and  that  the  word  was  pronounced  simply 
"Topana."  Then  he  turned  to  his  omnipresent  Yonan, 
telling  him  to  serve  the  jasmine  kalyon,  which  meant  a 
long  Turkish  pipe,  and  passed  into  the  oriental  room, 
where  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  was  spent  with  Mr.  Mil 
ton. 

Shortly  after  this  incident  Mr.  Milton  unexpectedly 
returned  to  America,  as  we  already  know,  and  the  Count 
left  Paris  for  Egypt.  Thus  separated  they  lost  track  of 
each  other. 

These  were  the  existing  relations  between  the  two  men 
we  see  now  sitting  and  conversing  on  the  porch  of  the 
Casino  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Tahoe. 

Hardly  had  Mr.  Milton  time  to  ask  the  Count  a  few 
questions  when  he  noticed  a  man  standing  a  few  yards 
distant,  and  recognized  the  Chaldean,  who  now  dressed 
in  American  fashion  was  looking  and  smiling  at  him. 
Mr.  Milton  -at  once  turned,  wishing  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  but  Yonan  bowed  very  low  and  quite  clearly  indi 
cated  that  although  he  was  in  America  he  did  not  forget 
that  he  was  only  a  servant  to  the  Count,  and  in  his  pres 
ence  no  familiarity  towards  the  friends  of  his  master 
was  admissible. 

All  countries,  all  nations,  according  to  their  develop 
ment,  have  their  own  ideas  in  regard  to  social  usages. 

Ethical  and  aesthetical  principles  are  not  understood 
in  the  same  way  by  all  people.  They  are  different  with 
different  countries  and  their  inhabitants,  and  this  under- 


29 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


standing  or  misunderstanding,  if  you  choose,  is  the 
cause  of  differences  in  customs  which  characterize  the 
inhabitants  of  each  separate  country. 

Yonan  was  a  literary  man,  according  to  his  native 
country,  but  this  fact  not  only  did  not  make  him  feel 
humiliated  in  performing  the  duties  of  a  simple  servant, 
but  on  the  contrary,  it  gave  to  him  a  sort  of  charm,  know- 
ing  that  he  was  a  servant  to  a  very  distinguished  person 
such  as  his  master  the  Count  was;  and  while  undoubtedly 
he  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  cordial  greeting  of  Mr. 
Milton,  following  his  eastern  custom  he  remained  passive 
and  entirely  submissive  to  his  oriental  nature;  for  in  his 
understanding  he  would  have  felt  guilty  of  an  inadmissi 
ble  familiarity  had  he  shaken  hands  with  a  friend  of  his 
master,  even  though  he  was  encouraged  by  such  an  one. 
Mr.  Milton  understood  this  very  promptly  and  ended  by 
asking  him  how  he  \vas.  In  answer  he  received  a  silent 
bow  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

By  this  time  the  porch  of  the  Casino  was  fairly  well 
filled  with  the  guests  in  search  of  the  breeze  so  abundant 
ly  found  there;  and  the  two  old  friends  felt  somewhat 
uncomfortable,  for  the  noise  caused  by  the  crowd  inter 
fered  with  their  conversation.  The  Count  looked  around 
as  though  in  quest  of  an  issue,  and  then  turning  to  Mr. 
Milton  said : 

"Don't  you  think  we  are  entitled  to  a  good  Turkish 
pipe,  such  as  we  used  to  have  in  Paris?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  replied  Mr.  Milton.  "I  will  enjoy  a 
Turkish  smoke  if  such  be  your  pleasure." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  Count,  "let  us  go  to  my 
cottage  where  we  will  find  a  very  comfortable  room,  and 
have  a  pleasant  smoke."  Then  turning  to  Yonan,  he  said 
in  Chaldean  that  he  might  go  first  in  order  to  receive  him 
and  his  friend  properly. 


30 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


There  are  a  number  of  small  cottages  lined  amongst 
the  old  pine  trees  between  the  main  building  of  the  hos 
telry  and  the  Casino.  One  of  these  cottages  the  Count 
had  rented  for  the  summer  season,  and  to  this  cottage  he 
walked  in  company  with  Mr.  Milton.  When  they  ar 
rived  at  the  place,  Yonan  had  prepared  the  desired  pipes 
and  was  waiting  for  them.  Entering  the  spacious  room 
the  Count  offered  a  comfortable  chair  to  Mr.  Milton,  and 
seated  himself  in  another,  and  as  though  automatically  he 
clapped  his  hands  loudly,  which  was  a  signal  to  the  Chal 
dean  that  they  were  ready  for  the  pipes.  Immediately 
the  Chaldean  appeared,  holding1  his  left  hand  on  his 
breast  and  carrying  a  long  pipe  in  his  right  hand.  With 
a  low  bow  he  rested  the  bowl  of  the  pipe  on  the  floor 
in  front  of  the  Count,  and  gracefully  making  a  semicircle 
in  the  air  with  the  stem,  he  passed  the  mouth-piece  into 
the  right  hand  of  his  master.  Then  he  went  for  the  other 
pipe,  which  he  served  in  a  similar  way  to  Mr.  Milton. 

Thus  seated  comfortably  the  two  friends  spent  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  in  recalling  the  time  they  were  in  Paris, 
and  delightful  remembrances  connected  with  it. 

The  following  morning  it  was  announced  in  the  hos 
telry  that  there  would  be  an  excursion  by  a  steamer  on  the 
Lake.  Learning  about  this  Mr.  Milton  immediately  sent 
a  note  to  the  Count  asking  whether  he  would  like  to  take 
the  trip;  to  which  the  Count  replied  that  he  would  be 
only  delighted,  and  requested  Mr.  Milton  to  see  about 
the  necessary  arrangements,  adding  that  he  would  be  in 
time  to  take  the  boat. 

Mr.  Milton  was  very  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  spend 
the  day  on  the  boat,  and  especially  was  he  glad  that  the 
Count  was  going  to  be  in  the  company.  Accordingly 
after  breakfast  Mr.  Milton  having  made  the  requisite  pro 
vision  for  himself  and  the  Count,  went  to  the  boat. 


31 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


Hardly  had  he  stepped  aboard  the  steamer  when  he  met 
his  good  friend  Dr.  J.  Ihringier  in  company  with  George 
Irving. 

"Hallo,  there,"  shouted  Mr.  Irving.  "Glad  to  see 
you're  here,  old  man.  Hope  you  did  not  get  arrested  for 
coming  so  late  to  the  Lake." 

"How  could  they?  Don't  they  know  you  are  here  to 
protect  me?"  replied  Mr.  Milton,  and  began  to  inquire 
whether  Mr.  Irving  was  there  for  his  pleasure  or  with 
his  wife. 

"Both,  both,"  shouted  Mr.  Irving,  "my  wife  is  here 
and  my  pleasure  with  her.  I  wish  she  would  hear  me," 
he  ended  meekly. 

"Never  mind,  she  knows  it  without  hearing  you," 
joined  the  Doctor,  "but  look  there  at  that  crowd  coming 
to  the  boat.  You  would  think  the  whole  city  of  the  An 
gels  was  here." 

"Yes,  they  are  all  Angelenos,"  remarked  Mr.  Irving. 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Mr.  Milton. 

"By  Jove!"  ejaculated  the  Doctor,  "is  there  a  man  in 
Los  Angeles  whom  Mr.  Irving  does  not  know  ?" 

At  this  moment  the  crowd  reached  the  boat,  and  there 
amongst  them  with  his  stately  figure  came  the  Count  fol 
lowed  by  his  Chaldean.  Mr.  Milton  met  him  very  af 
fably,  and  greeting  him  cordially  asked  whether  he  could 
introduce  to  him  some  of  his  friends  who  he  thought 
would  be  interesting  to  the  Count.  Having  received  his 
consent  he  introduced  the  Doctor. 

"This  is  my  friend,  Doctor  Joseph  Ihringier,"  said 
Mr.  Milton.  "From  his  name  you  can  easily  conclude 
that  he  belongs  to  the  great  German  race.  The  Doctor 
was  born  in  Germantown,  Philadelphia,  and  this  is  an 
other  reason  that  he  is  a  German.  Besides,"  he  went  on. 
"the  Doctor  amongst  many  of  his  virtues  has  one  the 


32 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


most  prominent,  and  that  is,  that  he  is  a  great  admirer 
of  all  German  scientists,  and  especially  of  Ernest  Haeckel. 
When  he  is  not  thinking  of  what  Haeckel  said  he  is  sure 
ly  singing  some  verses  of  the  old  Nibelungen-Lied,  for 
he  is  an  ardent  lover  of  Teutonic  antiquities." 

Then  he  turned  to  Mr.  Irving,  and  introducing  him  to 
the  Count,  said,  that  George  Irving  was  the  best  man  on 
the  earth  and  a  real  jewel  amongst  his  friends. 

The  Count  seemed  greatly  pleased  with  the  introduc 
tion,  and  the  introduced.  After  shaking  hands  very  cor 
dially  with  both  gentlemen  he  remarked  that  through  this 
short  introduction  of  Mr.  Milton  he  had  learned  about 
them  enough  to  expect  that  a  closer  acquaintance  between 
them  would  be  mutually  enjoyable. 

Saying  this  they  all  went  to  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
where  they  found  comfortable  chairs. 

The  boat  was  running  smoothly  on  the  Nevada  side 
going  north.  The  Sun  was  throwing  its  vivifying  rays 
abundantly  into  the  clear  waters  producing  continually 
innumerable  shades  of  green  and  blue  in  the  deep  of  the 
Lake.  The  guests  on  the  boat  seemed  to  be  very  happy. 
They  were  grouped  to  suit  their  conveniences.  In  one 
of  these  groups,  the  most  prominent  was  a  doctor;  a  tall, 
corpulent,  fleshy,  fat,  plump,  pursy,  round  anything-you- 
please.  He  was  engaged  in  flirting  with  two  young  sis 
ters.  "These  girls  are  of  a  splendid  Titian  type,"  said 
one  of  the  bystanders.  The  doctor  did  not  care  much 
whether  they  were  Titians  or  Murillos.  They  were  his 
at  this  time  and  that  was  enough.  The  doctor  had  made 
his  specialty  to  have  the  company  of  a  blonde  girl  right 
after  his  breakfast, — so  remarked  one  of  Mr.  Irving's 
friends.  The  Titians  would  do  him,  he  said,  after  the 
lunch,  and  for  the  evening  a  brunette  of  the  Dominicino 
type  would  nicely  fill  the  bill.  This  sort  of  amusement 


33 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


did  not  embarrass  the  doctor  when  he  was  asked  about 
his  wife.  He  expressed  his  great  sorrow  that  he  had  to 
leave  her  at  home.  Next  to  this  group  there  was  a  mid 
dle-aged  gentleman  with  a  gray  curly  mustache  and 
pleasantly  smiling  face.  He  was  a  well  known  dignitary 
in  the  financial  circle  of  Los  Angeles.  He  had  brought 
with  him  one  of  his  sons,  Theodore,  a  well-promising 
young  man,  to  give  him  a  little  recreation  after  his  hard 
studies,  and  now  he  was  telling  his  neighbor,  an  elderly 
gentleman,  about  his  experiences  on  the  Lake  Granite, 
where  he  had  spent  one  whole  day  with  his  son,  and  had 
caught  fourteen  fish,  the  expenses  of  the  day  for  hiring 
horses  and  a  guide  amounting  to  twelve  dollars.  He  did 
not  think  the  investment  was  in  harmony  with  banking 
rules,  and  this  remark  set  them  to  hearty  laughter.  Fur 
ther  on  there  was  a  tall  brunette  girl,  just  recently  grad 
uated  from  the  California  University.  She  was  all  alone 
and  in  a  quiet  contemplative  mood.  She  held  in  her  right 
hand  a  pencil,  and  a  pad  of  writing  paper  was  resting  on 
her  knee.  Impressed  by  the  surroundings,  she  had  writ 
ten  in  a  prettily  bound  book  an  ode  to  the  wild  flowers, 
in  Latin,  and  now  following  Catullus,  and  using  his  lan 
guage  she  wrote  its  dedication; 

Cui  dono  lepidtim  novum  libellum 

Arida  modo  pumice  expolitum? 

Tibi-       -(*) 

Here  she  stopped,  as  though  afraid  to  write  the  name 
of  her  idol. 

In  the  meantime  the  Count  with  his  newly  made  friends 
were  discussing  current  topics,  mixed  with  the  jovial 
humor  of  Mr.  Irving. 


(*)     To  whom  am  I  to  dedicate  this  pretty  little  book 
Carefully  polished  with  dry  pumice? 
To  thee 


34 


Shakespeare  Cliff,  on  Which  is  Found  the  Profile  of   the 
English  Play  Writer 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


They  had  passed  the  two  small  places  on  the  Nevada 
side  known  as  Hobart  and  Cave  Rock,  and  reached  Glen- 
brook,  the  lake  terminus  of  the  Carson  Stage  line,  where 
the  boat  stopped.  Glenbrook  is  to  the  Nevada  side  of 
Lake  Tahoe  what  Tahoe  city  is  to  the  California  side, 
that  is,  the  point  of  approach  or  departure.  Here  our 
excursionists  left  the  boat  for  a  short  trip  in  the  vicinity 
of  Glenbrook.  Following  the  crowd  the  Count  and  his 
friends  decided  to  go  to  the  shore,  and  while  walking 
on  the  bridge  Mr.  Irving  called  the  Count's  attention  to 
the  so-called  Shakespeare  Cliff,  abruptly  rising  on  the 
south  side  of  the  bridge. 

"There  is  a  remarkable  nature's  freak,"  said  he. 

Looking  in  the  direction  of  the  point  indicated  the 
Count  noticed,  right  on  the  center  of  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  cliff,  a  resemblance  to  Shakespeare's  profile.  It 
was  nothing  more  than  a  dark  yellowish  stain,  somewhat 
reminding  one  of  the  profile  of  the  great  English  play 
writer. 

"Yes."  said  the  Count,  "it  reminds  one  of  the  picture 
generally  known  as  that  of  Shakespeare.  But  what  an 
irony  of  faith !  In  this  age  of  critical  investigations,  even 
Shakespeare  is  denied  the  honor  of  being  the  author  of 
his  writings." 

"But  do  you  think  there  is  sufficient  ground  for  this 
theory?"  asked  Mr.  Milton. 

"Undoubtedly  there  is  more  than  sufficient  ground  that 
Shakespeare  was  only  a  mask  of  Francis  Bacon,"  an 
swered  the  Count,  looking  around  for  some  place  to 
lean  upon. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the  bridge, 
where  they  found  a  big  fallen  tree  lying  by  the  trail  lead 
ing  to  a  small  hotel.  Finding  the  place  picturesque  the 
Count  sat  on  one  end  of  the  tree  facing  the  Shakespeare 


35 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


cliff,  as  though  wishing  to  give  better  thought  to  the  sub 
ject  brought  up  for  discussion. 

"Yet  everybody  knows,"  resumed  Mr.  Irving,  who  fol 
lowing  the  example  of  the  rest  of  the  company  had  seated 
himself  in  Turkish  fashion  on  the  green  grass,  "that  Wil 
liam  Shakespeare  wrote  those  plays.  All  the  writers, 
ancient  and  modern,  say  so." 

"Yes,  everybody  says  so,"  jocosely  echoed  Dr.  Ihrin- 
gier,  'Vox  populi  vox  Dei,'  that  is  what  the  old  Romans 
would  have  called  it." 

"That  everybody  says  so,  does  not  prove  anything. 
They  have  said  a  good  many  things  in  the  past  which 
have  been  proved  to  be  not  so.  But  it  seems  you  are  in 
harmony  with  the  Baconians,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  turning 
to  the  Count;  "to  tell  the  truth  I  know  very  little  or 
rather  nothing  about  the  facts,  if  there  are  any,  upon 
\vhich  these  people  base  their  theory;  and  naturally  am 
very  curious  to  know  as  to  what  extent  these  Baconians 
are  justified  in  making  up  their  conclusions." 

"You  said  well,"  replied  the  Count.  "In  order  to  form 
an  opinion,  one  must  know  the  subject  thoroughly  well ; 
but  unfortunately  this  is  not  the  case  with  the  people  at 
large.  The  undeniable  fact  with  them  is  that  the  less 
they  know  of  a  subject  the  more  positive  their  assertions 
are  in  regard  to  it." 

"Yes,  that  is  so,"  joined  Dr.  Ihringier,  "there  are  more 
doctors  in  this  world  than  any  other  profession.  If  you 
have  headache  or  any  other  ailment  you  may  consult  the 
first  one  you  meet  on  the  street,  and  you  may  rest  as 
sured  that  he  will  tell  you  what  to  do  to  cure  you." 

"But  let  us  come  to  the  subject,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Ir 
ving,  and  turning  to  the  Count  said: 

"Do  you  really  think  that  Shakespeare  did  not  write 
the  plays  attributed  to  him?" 


36 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


"I  have  no  choice  to  make,"  replied  the  Count.  "It  is 
a  question  of  evidence  in  the  matter  that  commands  an 
opinion.  The  so-called  Baconian  theory  is  not  a  fable. 
It  is  based  on  undeniable  facts.  It  would  be  useless  to 
quote  in  detail  the  whole  structure  of  this  discovery 
which  you  call  the  Baconian  theory;  but  if  I  have  to 
choose  to  say  something  about  it,  I  would  say  that  the 
proofs  contained  in  the  plays  themselves  ought  to  be  suf 
ficient  to  convince  one  that  Shakespeare  was  only  a 
chosen  tool  by  the  real  author  of  the  plays.  In  the  days 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  the  citizens  of  England  did  not  en 
joy  freedom  of  speech  and  thought  as  they  do  today. 
Many  truths  had  to  be  concealed  between  the  lines,  and 
the  real  meaning  could  be  only  found  in  the  cipher  then 
so  extensively  employed  by  the  writers.  The  plays  have 
a  well  arranged  cipher  which  practically  connects  all  the 
plays  in  question  and  gives  us  the  real  history  of  their 
origin.  This  cipher  has  been  discovered  and  if  only  we 
would  read  it  we  would  not  need  any  better  proof  for 
the  corroboration  of  the  assertions  made  by  the  Bacon 
ians." 

"Supposing  that  there  is  a  cipher  as  you  say,  does  that 
cipher  state  that  Shakespeare  did  not  write  the  plays?" 
inquired  Mr.  Irving. 

"Most  assuredly,"  replied  the  Count.  "We  read  in  the 
cipher  of  the  plays  what  Sir  Robert  Cecil  reported  to  the 
insistent  queries  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  This  is  what  he  said: 
'That  Morelow  or  Shak'stapur  never  writ  a  word  of 
them' ;  then  again;  'It  is  plain  he  (Shakespeare)  is  stuff 
ing  our  ears  with  false  reports  and  lies  this  many  a 
year.' ' 

"Do  you  mean  to    say  that  this    statement  is  to    be 


37 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


found  in  the  plays    now   attributed    to   Shakespeare?" 
again  inquired  Mr.  Irving. 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  mean,"  replied  the  Count,  "not 
only  that,  but  you  will  find  in  the  cipher  as  given  in  the 
Great  Cryptogram,  the  precise  answer  to  all  questions 
that  might  arise  in  connection  with  the  subject.  There 
you  will  read  that  William  Shakespeare  was  not  capable 
of  writing  these  plays  and  why.  There  you  will  find  the 
reason  why  the  real  author  of  the  plays,  Francis  Bacon, 
would  not  and  could  not  announce  publicly  that  he  was 
the  author  of  the  plays,  and  the  most  important  fact  is 
that  this  information  does  not  come  from  any  foreign 
sources,  but  is  contained  in  the  plays  supposed  to  be  writ 
ten  by  Shakespeare,  of  whom  this  is  what  Sir  Robert 
Cecil  tells  the  Queen;  'He  is  the  son  of  a  poor  peasant 
•who  yet  folloived  the  trade  of  glove  making  in  the  hole 
where  he  ivas  born  and  bred,  one  of  the  peasant  towns 
of  the  west'  " 

"Then  if  that  be  so,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Milton,  "we  are 
simply  deceived  by  historians  who  tell  us  about  the  au 
thorship  of  Shakespeare.  Is  it  possible  that  historians 
during  the  last  three  centuries  have  been  giving  us  unre 
liable  facts?" 

"Not  only  is  it  possible,  but  it  appears  to  be  a  positive 
fact  that  they  have  done  so,  though  unintentionally,"  re 
plied  the  Count.  "They  gave  you  \vhat  they  got  from  their 
predecessors.  Besides,  to  think  or  assert  that  historians, 
even  in  our  days,  tell  the  world  all  that  occurs  in  any  age 
or  country,  is  simply  a  childish  admission  denoting  a  gross 
ignorance  in  matters  human.  Here  is  what  Richelieu 
says  about  history  as  it  is  presented  to  us ; 
'History  preserves  only  the  fleshless  bones 


38 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


Of  what  we  were;  and  by  the  mocking  skull 

The  would-be  wise  pretend  to  guess  the  features. 

Without  the  roundness  and  the  glow  of  life, 

How  hideous  is  the  skeleton !' 

"But  is  it  possible,"  inquired  Dr.  Ihringier,  "that  the 
truth  in  regard  to  the  authorship  of  the  plays  was  not 
found  out  even  by  the  all-powerful  and  all-knowing  gov 
ernment  of  Queen  Elizabeth?" 

"It  seems  that  was  the  case,"  replied  the  Count,  "for 
we  read  in  the  cipher  story  of  the  great  Court  excite 
ment  over  the  so-called  Shakespeare  play  of  Richard  II. 
This  same  cipher  story  tells  us  'of  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  Queen  to  find  out  who  was  the  real  author 
of  the  play ;  of  her  belief,  impressed  upon  her  by  the  rea 
soning  of  Robert  Cecil,  Francis  Bacon's  cousin,  that  the 

o 

purpose  of  the  play  was  treasonable,  and  that  the  repre 
sentation  on  the  stage  of  the  deposition  and  murder  of 
the  unfortunate  Richard  was  intended  to  incite  the  civil 
\var,  and  lead  to  her  own  deposition  and  murder.'  The 
cipher  also  tells  us  'that  she  sent  out  posts  to  find  and  ar 
rest  Shakespeare,  intending  to  put  him  to  the  torture,  or 
"the  question,"  as  it  was  called  in  that  day,  and  compel 
him  to  reveal  the  name  of  the  man  for  whom,  as  Cecil  al 
leged,  he  was  but  a  mask ;'  and  it  also  tells  how  this  re 
sult  was  avoided  'by  getting  Shakespeare  out  of  the  coun 
try  and  beyond  the  Seas.'  ' 

"This  sounds  simply  like  an  Arabian  story,"  said  Mr. 
Irving,  "to  think  that  the  whole  civilized  world  was  de 
ceived  for  so  many  centuries!" 

"It  w7ould  not  be  so  bad,"  replied  the  Count,  "were  it 
the  only  historical  deception  that  we  have  had.  We  have 
been  deceived  in  many  other  things.  But  observe  this 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


fact,  that  this  kind  of  deception  when  unintentionally 
perpetrated — for  we  have  many  historical  statements 
intentionally  falsified  to  suit  those  in  power — is  due  sole 
ly  to  the  lack  of  possibility  of  obtaining  authentic  infor 
mation,  and  this  fact  we  always  should  bear  in  mind 
when  dealing  with  history.  As  for  the  subject  we  have 
been  discussing,  it  is  not  my  object  necessarily  to  prove 
that  Bacon  was  the  author  of  the  well-known  plays  at 
tributed  to  Shakespeare ;  for  today  it  makes  no  difference 
to  the  reading  public  whether  they  were  written  by  Bacon 
or  Shakespeare.  The  plays  have  the  merit  in  themselves, 
and  that  is  enough  for  the  lovers  of  classic  literature  to 
which  unquestionably  the  plays  belong.  As  for  the  name 
of  the  author,  probably  the  plays  will  go  to  posterity  as 
they  came  to  us — under  the  name  of  Shakespeare.  As 
for  the  Baconian  theory,  it  is  purely  a  controversial  ques 
tion  to  be  decided  by  the  historians  and  archaeologists 
as  to  where  the  truth  lies.  What  I  wish  to  say  in  this 
matter  is,  that  history  is  not  infallible  nor  omniscient. 
The  farther  we  go  back,  the  less  reliable  facts  we  have 
from  that  source.  This  controversy  shows  how  little  was 
known  to  the  people  and  also  to  those  at  the  head  of  the 
English  government  at  the  time  these  plays  came  to  the 
notice  of  the  public.  Now  if  historical  facts  reported 
from  the  seventeenth  century  are  shown  to  be  not  alto 
gether  reliable,  what  have  we  to  think  of  facts  which  oc 
curred  in  the  tenth,  fifth  or  first  centuries  of  the  Christian 
era?  And  what  have  we  to  think  about  the  traditions 
and  so-called  revelations  which  presumably  took  place 
long  before  the  Christian  era  ?" 

Here  Mr.  Irving  could  not  keep  silence  any  longer, 
and  getting  on  his  knees  abruptly  exclaimed: 


40 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


"Gentlemen,  what  is  the  use?  These  book  writers  will 
always  find  some  pretext  to  write  a  new  book;  and  be 
sides  what  does  that  matter  to  us  whether  it  was  Charle 
magne  who  created  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  or  Otto 
the  Great  ?  The  Empire  is  dead  and  gone  and  with  it  its 
emperors — what  is  the  use?  Nowadays  it  seems  history 
is  not  any  better  than  metallurgy;  we  have  to  dig  to  find 
out  what  we  want ;  it  is  a  matter  of  opinion !" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Milton,  "history 
is  not  a  matter  of  opinion.  The  task  of  a  history  is  to 
give  nothing  but  facts.  The  conscientious  historian  has 
no  opinion  of  his  own ;  he  gathers  facts  to  the  best  of  his 
ability  and  so  states." 

"He  does,  when  he  can,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier,  "but 
what,  when  he  can  not?" 

"Then  he  does  not  write  history,"  answered  Mr.  Mil 
ton. 

"But  history  must  be  written  at  any  rate,"  retorted 
Dr.  Ihringier.  "What  would  be  the  position  of  a  his 
torian  who  writes  the  history  of  the  Austrian  dynasty 
if  he  omits  the  tragic  death  of  the  Crown  Prince,  the 
only  son  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria?" 

"Ah,  the  tragic  death  of  the  Crown  Prince,  of  which 
no  one  knows  anything,"  said  Mr.  Irving. 

"Beg  pardon,"  responded  the  Doctor,  "we  all  know 
that  he  is  dead;  what  we  do  not  know  is  the  cause  of 
his  death." 

"Ta,  ta,  I  see  you  are  not  a  doctor  for  fashion,"  ejacu 
lated  Mr.  Irving,  "you  want  to  know  whether  it  was 
pneumonia  or  Angina  Ludovici  that  caused  the  death  of 
the  young  and  promising  Prince.  Sometimes  people  die 
of  a  bullet,  too." 


41 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"That  much  we  all  know,"  responded  the  doctor 
thoughtfully,  "but  the  historian  who  does  not  know  the 
story  of  the  bullet,  whether  it  came  from  the  sinister 
hand  of  an  offended  husband,  brother  or  lover,  or 
whether  it  was  an  act  of  self  destruction,  what  shall  such 
an  historian  have  to  write?" 

"He  will  write  whatever  he  thinks  will  be  most  ac 
ceptable,  and  that  will  be  history,"  murmured  Mr.  Irving. 

"Precisely,"  ejaculated  the  Count,  "that  is  the  condi 
tion  in  which  we  find  our  history.  Strictly  speaking  Mr. 
Irving  is  right;  it  is  a  matter  of  opinion  of  the  writer. 
However,  what  strikes  us  most  forcibly  in  the  above  dis 
cussion  is  this :  that  if  the  facts  of  public  interest  such 
as  the  above  mentioned,  which  occurred  in  our  days  of 
telegraph,  telephone  and  the  aggressive  newspaper  re 
porter,  are  covered  with  such  darkness  and  mystery,  how 
can  we  expect  to  know  the  exact  happenings  in  the  days 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  all  occurrences  were  given 
such  an  official  mien  as  the  circumstances  commanded? 
And  when  we  go  back  to  the  times  when  Eusebius  wrote 
his  history,  and  still  further  back  when  Josephus  Flavins 
the  Jew  and  the  great  historical  authority  in  the  begin 
ning  of  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era,  wrote  his 
'Antiquities  of  Jews,'  we  cannot  exercise  too  much  pre 
caution  in  learning  a  comparative  historical  truth." 

At  this  moment  the  attention  of  the  Count  and  his 
friends  was  attracted  by  the  noise  of  returning  excursion 
ists,  among  whom  a  young  man  with  his  tenor  voice 
was  singing; 

"Mary  had  a  little  lamb, 

Whose  fleece  was  white  as  snow." 

The  rest  of  the  song  could  not  be  heard  for  the  whistle 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  TAHOE. 


of  the  steamer  announcing  the  departure  of  the  boat  was 
much  louder  than  his  voice. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  whole  crowd  joined  and  shortly 
they  took  their  seats  on  the  boat,  which  immediately  left 
the  shores  of  the  great  state  of  Nevada  to  return  to  Cali 
fornia. 

The  sun  was  going  down  hiding  itself  behind  the 
proud  mountains  on  the  western  shores  of  Lake  Tahoe. 
The  last  reflections  in  the  clear  waters  once  more  gave 
their  fantastic  display  of  colors,  and  shortly  all  vanished 
leaving  the  white  steamer  to  do  its  work  till  it  reached 
its  destination. 

The  guests  who  had  spent  their  afternoon  at  the  Casino 
came  in  a  mass  to  meet  the  boat,  and  shortly  all  were 
back  in  their  rooms  getting  ready  for  their  evening  meal. 

After  this  delightful  trip  the  Count  spent  most  of  his 
time  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Milton  and  his  newly  made 
friends.  They  made  several  excursions  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Tallac  mountain  and  around  the  Lake.  Needless 
to  say  that  the  beautiful  shores  of  the  Lake  with  its  for 
est  and  wild  flowers  furnished  many  an  instructive  sub 
ject  for  discussion  to  this  little  company  of  admirers  of 
nature  and  science,  for  the  old  maxim  "Homo  sum  nihil- 
que  humani  alienum  me  esse  puto"  (*)  was  common  prop 
erty  to  the  Count  and  his  friends. 


(*)     I  am  a  man  and  nothing  pertaining  to    man    I    consider 
alien  to  me. 


43 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    EBELL. 


Mrs.  Milton  was  a  prominent  member  of  the  Ebell  or 
ganization.  Devoting  her  whole  heart  and  soul  to  it,  she 
contributed  a  great  deal  in  promoting  its  vital  interests. 
The  movement  started  years  ago  by  public  spirited 
women  like  Miss  Anthony,  Mrs.  Stanton,  Madam  Sev 
erance  and  their  followers,  was  eagerly  watched  by  Mrs. 
Milton.  In  this  movement  she  saw  the  rise  of  woman 
hood  to  its  proper  height. 

While  Europe  was  loudly  talking  about  woman's 
rights,  clothing  it  in  an  ephemeral  garment,  the  Ameri 
can  woman  energetically  took  the  matter  in  her  own  hand 
in  a  business  like  manner  and  established  institutions 
which  practically  have  solved  the  problem.  Was  the 
woman  to  remain  in  the  scope  assigned  to  her  by  the 
barbarian  ages  of  the  past?  Was  she  to  remain  for  ever 
nothing  but  a  female?  No.  She  wanted  to  occupy  her 
place  in  the  community  as  a  dignified  wife  and  mother. 
She  wanted  to  be  an  equal  companion  to  her  husband; 
she  wanted  to  stand  on  the  same  level  with  him;  she 
wanted  to  have  equal  rights  with  man.  Why  could  not 
she  pursue  this  exalted  position?  Was  she  not  gifted 
with  intelligence  and  capability  to  cope  with  the  problems 
of  life?  Did  not  she  possess  the  key  of  happiness  in 


44 


THE    E  B  E  L  L. 


home  life?  Was  not  she  the  one  to  whom  man  owed  the 
tenderest  part  of  his  life?  Was  not  she  the  inspirer,  the 
giver  of  the  best  that  there  is  in  man? 

A  club  life  to  man  is  a  sort  of  rest  and  amusement.  A 
club  life  to  the  woman  is  an  resthetical  culture.  Men  go 
to  the  club  house  to  meet  their  equals,  to  have  a  lunch, 
a  dinner,  a  strong  coffee  with  a  Havana  cigar,  an  inno 
cent  or  hazardous  game,  or  a  talk  on  business  matters. 
Women  go  to  the  club  house,  to  hear  a  philosopher,  a 
naturalist,  a  scientist;  to  see  the  old  and  the  new  produc 
tion  of  art;  to  attend  a  class  of  Literature,  Music,  Edu 
cation,  Science,  Civics.  Parliamentary  Law,  French,  and 
Home  with  its  pure  food  and  legislation  pertaining  to  it. 

Here  eight  hundred  and  fifty  active  members,  of  all 
ages,  come,  whenever  their  home  duties  permit  them  to 
spend  a  pleasant  hour  in  this  elevating  atmosphere.  Here 
the  woman  learns  not  only  what  her  husband,  father  or 
brother  knows,  but  she  also  learns  what  they  do  not 
know,  the  exalted  position  of  a  woman  in  public  and 
home  life. 

This  delightful  institution  is  located  on  beautiful  Fig- 
ueroa  street,  where  a  passer-by  can  not  help  noticing  the 
imposing  building  with  its  simplicity,  having  on  the  front 
porch  the  one  worded  inscription  "Ebell."  This  is  the 
name  of  its  originator. 

Dr.  Adrian  Ebell  was  a  noted  German  scholar  who 
spent  his  life  in  solving  problems  of  interest  to  humanity. 
He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  thinking  woman  was 
a  necessity.  But  how  could  she  be  made  a  thinking 
woman  when  her  opportunities  for  development  along 
scientific  lines  were  so  utterly  limited?  To  remove  this 
obstacle  he  conceived  the  idea  of  establishing  an  inter- 


45 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


national  academy  with  chapters  all  over  the  world,  and 
while  traveling  in  America  in  1876,  he  formed  the  first 
chapter,  the  Oakland  Ebell.  It  is  after  this  well  organ 
ized  club  that  the  Ebell  of  Los  Angeles  is  modeled,  con 
sisting  of  a  central  organization  with  departments  for 
study  and  advancement  in  all  lines  of  general  culture. 

Such  was  the  institution  in  which  Mrs.  Milton  was 
greatly  interested. 

The  two  charming  ladies,  presidents  of  this  Institu 
tion,  Mrs.  K and  her  successor  Mrs.  H ,  skill 
fully  took  advantage  of  every  available  opportunity  to 
gather  to  the  club  house  men  and  things  they  thought 
interesting  and  instructive,  in  order  to  give  the  mem 
bers  ample  opportunity  for  the  realization  of  the  aims  of 
the  Institution.  Following  this  wise  system,  during  the 
summer  when  the  events  narrated  here  took  place,  they 
had  a  very  interesting  exhibit,  in  fact  a  very  unique  one. 

There  was  in  the  club  house  a  room  set  apart  for  the 
use  of  the  Alliance  Francaise,  where  a  regular  class  of 
French  was  attended  by  a  great  number  of  ladies.  In 
this  room  they  had  exhibited  a  copy  of  Rafael's  famous 
Sistine  Madonna — Madonna  Sixtina — a  pain-ting  in 
needle  work,  pronounced  perfect  by  the  greatest  art  crit 
ics  of  Europe  and  America — a  new  creation  of  art,  which 
as  yet  has  no  competition.  This  marvellous  embroidery, 
in  full  sized  copy  of  the  original  8xio,  with  the  same 
coloring,  was  made  by  Fraulein  Clara  Ripberger,  of 
Dresden,  Germany.  Needless  to  say  that  on  this  occa 
sion  a  large  majority  of  the  members  was  present. 

When  the  door  of  the  room  was  opened  the  president 
of  the  club,  with  a  grace  charmingly  becoming  to  her 
dignified  personality,  invited  the  ladies  to  enter  the  room 


46 


THE    EBELL. 


where  the  famous  picture  was  exhibited  for  their  inspec 
tion.  Shortly  every  seat  in  the  room  was  taken.  Mrs. 
Milton  being-  amongst  those  standing  near  the  door,  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  a  chair  in  the  first  row  opposite  the  pic 
ture,  so  that  she  could  see  it  in  its  best  light.  The  younger 
generation  had  to  content  itself  with  standing  room. 
Many  of  them  stood  on  the  side  where  the  picture  was 
hanging  and  naturally  they  were  facing  those  sitting  in 
chairs.  When  the  room  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity 
and  the  rustling  caused  by  the  silk  dresses  of  the  ladies 
subsided,  the  sister  of  the  artist  who  had  made  the  pic 
ture  proceeded  with  her  explanatory  address,  in  which 
she  depicted,  in  an  interesting  way,  the  story  of  the 
famous  work  of  art,  and  then  went  on  describing  the  de 
tails  of  the  needlework  in  that  wonderful  picture  accom 
plished  by  her  sister  during  many  long  and  tedious  years. 
To  substitute  the  needle  for  the  brush  of  the  immortal 
Rafaello  was  the  object  of  the  work,  and  this  was  won 
derfully  well  attained. 

On  the  right  hand  side  amongst  standing  ladies  and 
near  the  picture  stood  a  young  lady  of  striking  person 
ality.  She  was  a  beautiful  blonde  with  light  blue  eyes. 
Her  exceedingly  rich  hair,  crowning  her  prettily  chiseled 
head,  fell  around  her  shoulders  as  a  well  fitted  back 
ground  to  her  oval  face,  which  now  was  a  picture  by  it 
self,  full  of  exalted  admiration  for  the  art  she  was  con 
templating.  Her  figure,  of  medium  height,  exceedingly 
well  proportioned,  was  an  exquisite  expression  of  har 
monious  femininity.  She  was  dressed  in  a  light  gray 
dress,  very  modestly,  and  devoid  of  all  those  little  things 
which  suggest  shallow  vanity  in  a  young  lady  of  her  age. 
She  was  a  girl  of  four  and  twenty  summers.  Looking 


47 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


into  her  expressive  eyes,  one  could  notice  that  she  was 
entirely  captivated  with  what  she  was  witnessing  at  the 
moment.  Forgetful  of  herself,  unconsciously  she  moved 
nearer  to  the  picture  and  took  a  position  which  made  her 
appear  as  though  she  were  a  part  of  it.  To  those  facing 
the  picture  it  was  almost  an  unavoidable  transition  from 
the  kneeling  figure  of  the  pope  in  the  picture,  to  this  mod 
est  figure  of  the  young  girl  in  gray.  Mrs.  Milton,  who 
was  enraptured  with  the  subject  before  her,  listening  at 
tentively  to  the  given  explanation,  had  allowed  her  eyes 
to  rest  on  the  figures  in  the  picture,  and  while  she  moved 
her  glance  from  one  to  another,  through  that  mysterious 
harmony  of  colors  which  now  was  regulating  her  vision, 
she  unnoticeably  passed  from  the  picture  to  the  standing 
figure.  At  this  moment  her  eyes  met  those  of  the  young 
lady  and  they  both  simultaneously  smiled.  This  little  in 
cident  changed  altogether  the  predominating  mood  of 
Mrs.  Milton.  From  this  moment  she  was  not  looking 
at  the  picture  of  the  immortal  Rafael  any  longer.  Her 
eyes  and  thoughts  were  with  the  girl  she  saw  standing. 
"Ah,  she  is  always  so  pretty,  so  charming,  this  Virginia 
Gladston,"  thought  Mrs.  Milton.  "What  an  exquisite 
companion  she  would  make  for  my  son,  and  James  ad 
mired  her  so  much,"  she  went  on  thinking.  "Her  figure, 
her  almost  transparent  and  most  delicate  complexion,  her 
expressive  eyes,  her  charming  face,  with  that  contrasting 
little  mole  in  the  shape  of  the  morning  star,  on  her  cheek 
near  the  lower  part  of  her  right  ear;  all  that  beauty  be 
comes  unnoticeable  when  one  thinks  of  her  noble  charac 
ter,  enriched  with  so  many  traits  of  unusual  qualities. 
But,  oh  dear  me,  she  is  so  much  enwrapped  in  herself 


48 


THE    EBELL. 


and  in  what  she  terms  'her  duties'  that  she  hardly  can 
notice  anyone  in  this  wide  world." 

While  Mrs.  Milton  was  thus  thinking,  the  address  of 
the  German  lady  came  to  an  end,  and  the  audience  was 
requested  to  leave  the  room  to  make  place  for  the  other 
ladies  waiting  in  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Milton  was  glad  to 
leave  the  room,  but  before  she  did  so,  she  grasped  the 
little  hand  of  the  girl  now  standing  before  her  and  said : 

"Come,  Miss  Virginia,  come  with  me.  I  am  so  glad  to 
see  you;  I  want  to  speak  to  you;"  saying  this,  both  ladies 
went  to  the  parlor  and  sat  on  a  sofa  near  the  window. 

"Now  tell  me,"  Mrs.  Milton  continued,  "how  have  you 
been  since  I  saw  you  last?" 

"Oh,  I  am  always  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Miss 
Virginia,  "you  know  I  have  no  time  to  be  ill." 

"And  how  is  your  aunt,  Mrs.  Pratt  ?  Is  she  here  with 
you?"  inquired  Mrs.  Milton. 

"No,  my  aunt  is  not  here,"  answered  Miss  Virginia, 
with  a  tone  indicating  anxiety.  "She  had  to  stay  home, 
for  Corinne  is  not  well,  and  you  know  we  could  not  leave 
her  alone." 

"I  hope  nothing  serious,"  said  Mrs.  Milton. 

"Oh  no,  a  little  cold,"  answered  Miss  Virginia.  "She 
must  stay  in  for  a  few  days,  and  that  is  the  most  difficult 
thing  to  make  her  do." 

"Yes,  it  is  hard  to  keep  children  in  the  house  while 
they  are  able  to  run,"  said  Mrs.  Milton,  "but  I  hope  she 
will  get  well  in  a  few  days.  You  know,"  she  continued, 
"I  have  not  been  able  to  go  anywhere  since  James  left 
for  his  vacation.  I  undertook  to  make  some  changes 
in  the  house  while  he  is  away,  and  that  is  what  keeps 
me  busy." 


49 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Have  you  had  any  news  from  Mr.  Milton?"  inquired 
Miss  Virginia. 

"O,  yes,  my  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Milton.  "I  received 
a  letter  from  him  just  this  morning;  here  it  is;"  saying 
this  she  opened  her  hand  bag,  took  out  the  letter,  and 
passing  it  to  Miss  Virginia,  said  : 

"You  can  read  it  ;  he  writes  me  from  Lake  Tahoe,  and 
he  describes  his  trip  to  the  Tallac  Mountain  so  nicely." 

Miss  Virginia  took  the  letter  and  began  to  read  : 


THE 

LAKE  TAHOE,  CAUFORNIA. 

July  ....,  190..  .. 
"Dear  Mother: 

"I  have  been  enjoying  the  life  of  a  mountaineer  now 
already  for  a  week,  as  you  know,  but  the  attraction  seems 
so  strong  that  I  may  possibly  stay  here  another  week. 

"To  begin  with  I  must  tell  you  right  here  that  this 
attraction  I  am  speaking  of  is  not  altogether  local.  Un 
expectedly  I  met  here  an  old  and  dear  friend  of  mine 
whom  I  greatly  admire.  Can  you  guess  whom  I  mean? 
Had  I  been  told  that  I  would  meet  here  my  good  friend 
Count  Morat,  I  would  not  have  believed  it.  Yet  the 
fact  is  that  he  is  here,  and  I  am  spending  most  of  mv 
time  with  him.  You  know  him  very  well,  mother,  al 
though  you  have  never  met  him.  You  have  no  idea 
what  a  great  pleasure  it  is  to  be  in  his  company.  He  is 
so  interesting,  so  intensely  interesting.  In  short  he  is 
the  greatest  acquisition  we  can  have  in  Los  Angeles.  He 
is  coming  with  me  to  locate  there.  I  am  sure,  mother, 
you  will  be  delighted  to  meet  him  and  know  him  per 
sonally. 


50 


Tallac  Mountain  Viewed  from  Lake  Tahoe 


THE    EBELL. 


"As  for  the  country  here  it  is  a  very  charming  one; 
and  if  I  regret  anything  it  is  the  fact  that  you  are  not 
here  with  me.  The  air,  the  singing  birds,  the  wild  flow 
ers,  the  old  pine  trees  clothed  with  fresh  green,  remind 
one  of  Spring  and  its  inspiring  dreams.  But  alas,  as  al 
ways  is  the  case  with  mankind,  we  are  not  satisfied  with 
the  beauty  of  one  place;  we  go  in  search  of  another. 
Thus,  last  Wednesday,  we  started  for  our  all  day  trip  to 
the  Tallac  Mountain.  The  Count  did  not  go  with  us  on 
this  occasion.  This  'we'  consisted  of  six  fair  young 
ladies,  seven  gentlemen  and  two  guides — of  course  guides 
are  not  men — they  are  only  guides. 

"All  erect  in  their  respective  saddles  like  an  Arabian 
squadron,  breathing  the  fresh  morning  air,  saturated 
with  the  aroma  of  pines  and  surrounding  flora,  we  pro 
ceeded  with  a  gallop  worthy  of  some  better  cause.  Short 
ly  we  reached  an  open  valley  full  of  a  picturesqueness 
difficult  to  describe.  Acres  and  acres  of  remaining  snow 
covering  the  largest  portion  of  the  majestic  mountain, 
made  the  panorama  more  than  attractive.  Venerable 
looking  old  pine  trees  here  and  there,  telling  the  story 
of  ages  and  ages,  perfected  the  mosaic  part  of  the  charm 
ing  picture.  An  innumerable  quantity  of  streams  and 
divers  sized  water  falls,  covering  nearly  all  the  visible 
sides  of  the  Tallac  and  reflected  by  the  radiant  sunlight, 
presented  one  of  the  most  enchanting  aspects  of  mountain 
life. 

"Finally  after  five  hours'  climbing  mostly  on  horse 
back  and  a  few  hundred  yards  on  foot,  we  reached  our 
destination,  the  top  of  the  Tallac  Mountain.  'Tallac'  is 
an  Indian  word,  which  means  'mountain.'  Here  we  be 
held  a  superb  picture  of  lakes  and  rivers,  surrounded  by 


51 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


a  rich  and  varied  kingdom  of  verdure,  comprising  an 
area  of  several  miles  around  us.  We  stood  at  the  height 
of  9786  feet  above  the  sea  level. 

"The  impression  created  by  what  we  saw  was  so  grand 
and  majestic  that,  for  a  little  while  a  dead  silence  reigned 
in  this  little  crowd  of  fifteen  persons.  We  all  seemed  lost 
in  our  thoughts.  I  said  'we/  although  actually  I  do  not 
know  whether  my  companions  had  such  a  misfortune  as 
to  be  thinking;  but  I  know  I  could  not  help  seeing  and 
admiring  the  grandeur  that  the  magnitude  of  the  Tallac 
represented. 

"It  is  not  my  intention  to  convey  to  you  in  this  letter 
all  my  impressions  for  this  would  be  quite  a  difficult  task 
to  accomplish.  By  giving  you  one  of  many  charming 
pictures  of  this  place,  I  intend  to  give  you,  dear  mother, 
some  approximate  idea  of  it;  and  the  rest  I  will  tell  you 
when  with  you,  probably  some  day  next  week. 

"I  hope  you  are  well,  dear  mother. 

"With  best  regards  to  all,  I  am 

"Your 


Having  finished  the  reading,  Miss  Virginia  placed  the 
letter  in  its  envelope  and  returned  it  to  Mrs.  Milton, 
saying  : 

"The  description  is  very  vivid  indeed,  and  judging 
from  its  tone  Mr.  Milton  is  enjoying  his  vacation  greatly. 
According  to  this  letter  the  place  is  a  real  dreamland; 
but  of  course  we  have  to  consider  also  the  poetical  dis 
position  of  the  writer.  Mr.  Milton  always  and  in  all 
things  sees  more  than  others.  But,  will  you  tell  me  who 
is  this  Count  of  whom  Mr.  Milton  has  such  an  exalted 
opinion  ?" 


52 


THE    EBELL. 


"Count  Morat  is  a  very  distinguished  nobleman,  whom 
James  met  in  Paris  during  the  time  of  his  stay  there," 
answered  Mrs.  Milton.  "James  is  correct  in  saying  that 
I  know  his  friend  the  Count  for  he  has  told  me  so  much 
about  him.  Strictly  speaking  the  Count  is  a  modern 
philosopher.  Besides  he  has  traveled  a  great  deal  and 
has  lived  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  Being  gifted  with 
an  extraordinary  ability  for  observation  he  has  acquired 
a  vast  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  as  such  naturally 
he  is  interesting." 

"Undoubtedly  he  must  be,"  remarked  Miss  Virginia. 
"We  do  not  meet  men  like  that  every  day.  I  am  sure 
my  aunt  will  be  delighted  to  know  him." 

"And  proselyte  him  for  her  Tuesdays,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Milton. 

"Quite  possible,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  smiling;  "we  all 
like  to  hear  an  interesting  discussion,  don't  you?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Milton.  "But  now  let 
me  ask  you  what  do  you  think  of  the  picture  we  saw 
this  morning?" 

"I  have  no  words  to  express  my  admiration  for  it." 
replied  Miss  Virginia.  "Although  I  am  not  an  authority 
to  give  an  opinion  on  art,  I  will  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
this  is  a  most  remarkable  reproduction  of  the  original. 
Did  you  notice  that  delicate  shading  so  marvellously  re 
produced  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Mrs.  Milton;  "how  can  you 
escape  noticing  that  fact  when  you  know  what  a  problem 
you  have  to  face  when  you  want  to  make  some  delicate 
embroidery  for  your  own  use?" 

"That  is  it,"  remarked  Miss  Virginia.  "In  order  to 
appraise  properly  a  production  we  must  acquaint  our- 


53 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


selves  with  the  technical  difficulties  that  have  to  be  dealt 
with.  In  regard  to  this  unique  picture  I  have  been  think 
ing  while  we  were  inspecting  it,  and  I  found  that  we  have 
to  admire  in  it  two  different  things;  one  is  the  art  of 
copying  correctly  the  famous  picture,  and  the  other  the 
art  of  exercising  an  unlimited  quantity  of  patience  to 
accomplish  it.  As  for  the  first  we  have  to  take  the  opin 
ion  of  art  critics,  who  say  that  the  reproduction  is  per 
fect  in  all  of  its  details.  But  when  we  come  to  the  other 
we  do  not  need  opinions  of  art  critics  for  we  ourselves 
are  the  best  judges  of  it.  To  think  of  the  patience  exer 
cised  by  this  German  lady  during  seven  long  years  to  ac 
complish  her  undertaking  is  a  task  quite  accessible  to  any 
woman;  and  were  I  asked  which  would  I  admire  the 
most,  the  art  of  copying  with  the  needle  instead  of  the 
brush,  or  the  art  of  exercising  patience,  I  would  say  the 
last  had  my  greatest  admiration." 

"This  is  well  said,  my  dear  child,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Milton;  "but  you  have  to  add  to  patience  another  still 
greater  virtue — perseverance." 

"The  one  implies  the  other,"  said  Miss  Virginia.  "Per 
severance  can  not  be  exercised  without  patience;  I  know 
this  from  my  limited  experience  in  life.  Had  I  no  pa 
tience  I  could  not  have  the  perseverance  required  in  my 
daily  work.  So  I  can  not  help  seeing  that  patience  is 
the  most  to  be  admired. 

"You  are  talking  just  like  yourself,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Milton.  "Oh  these  analytical  heads !  and  now,  were  you 
to  give  an  object  lesson  on  this  subject  what  would  you 
say?" 

"What  would  I  say?"  repeated  Miss  Virginia.  "What 
I  would  say  would  be  a  very  simple  lesson;  first,  learn 


THE    EBELL. 


to  have  patience.  If  this  German  lady  had  patience  to 
accomplish  her  work,  why  should  not  we  have  patience 
enough  to  accomplish  our  daily  work?  Not  everybody 
can  copy  Rafael;  but  every  woman  can  exercise  enough 
patience  to  make  a  success  of  all  her  undertakings, 
whether  in  public  or  in  home  life." 

"O  how  charming  she  is  when  she  talks  in  a  didactic 
way,"  thought  Mrs.  Milton;  and  turning  to  her  'didactic 
charmer,'  said: 

"Now  let  us  come  to  our  daily  life.  When  are  we  go 
ing  to  have  the  promised  French  soiree,  with  the  little 
Corinne  as  debutante?" 

"She  is  learning  her  part  very  nicely,"  replied  Miss 
Virginia,  "and  I  hope  she  will  send  you  her  invitation 
soon.  But  do  you  notice  the  great  number  of  ladies  com 
ing  all  the  while  to  see  the  picture?" 

"Yes,  I  notice  it  and  I  am  so  pleased  with  it,"  an 
swered  Mrs.  Milton.  "It  is  a  great  work  this  our  in 
stitution  is  achieving.  The  members  take  so  much  inter 
est  in  all  that  takes  place  in  the  Ebell,  and  that  shows 
how  eager  they  are  for  culture  and  advancement  in 
knowledge.  But  I  see  it  is  getting  late,  so,  au  revoir,  ma 
cherie,  and  tell  your  aunt  as  soon  as  James  comes  home  I 
am  coming  out  to  see  both  of  you." 

"Do  come;  you  know  we  are  always  delighted  to  see 
you,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  shaking  the  extended  hand  of 
Mrs.  Milton,  and  both  left  the  Ebell  club  house  for  their 
respective  homes  . 


55 


CHAPTER  IV. 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT    HOME. 


On  fashionable  Adams  street,  near  St.  James  Park, 
there  is  a  two-story  house  built  in  Spanish  Renaissance. 
Surrounded  by  large  and  well  kept  grounds,  with  decora 
tive  trees,  and  a  great  variety  of  roses  amidst  luxuriously 
growing  ferns,  the  house,  with  its  wide  veranda,  looks 
very  imposing  and  inviting.  On  the  west  corner  of  the 
house  there  is  a  little  tower,  very  symmetrically  propor 
tioned,  which  is  partly  covered  with  Bougainvillea  glabra, 
with  its  richly  blooming  purple  flowers  hanging  around. 
As  though  for  a  contrast,  on  the  eastern  corner  is 
overspread  Wistaria  Sinensis,  with  equally  pretty  white 
flowers  in  full  bloom.  The  Marechal  Niel,  forming  an 
arch  on  the  entrance  of  the  veranda,  with  its  plentiful 
deep  golden  roses,  proudly  is  clamoring  its  superiority 
above  the  low  bush  of  Kaiserin,  with  its  tea  rose  of  a  soft 
pearly  white  color,  tinged  in  the  center  with  lemon,  pro 
fusely  growing  next  to  it.  The  dark  red  plushy  Meteor 
runs  around  the  columns  supporting  the  red  tiled  roof 
of  the  veranda  as  though  to  give  a  delicate  finishing 
touch  to  the  light  yellow  tinted  background. 

It  is  about  the  noon  hour.     In  the  large  and  comfort- 


56 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT    HOME. 


able  library  we  find  a  middle  aged  lady,  sitting  on  a  sofa, 
perusing  a  magazine.  Opposite  her  we  see  a  little  girl 
with  curly  hair  engaged  in  reading.  Before  her  stands 
a  little  desk,  evidently  made  purposely  for  her  use,  on 
which  we  find  a  few  school  books  and  writing  materials. 
In  the  northern  part  of  the  room  we  notice  a  boy  a  little 
older  than  the  girl.  He  is  a  sort  of  a  student  mechanic. 
He  also  has  his  own  desk,  which  is  covered  with  various 
sorts  of  instruments  and  a  number  of  paper  and  metal 
tubes  of  different  sizes.  Seemingly  he  is  trying  to  con 
struct  some  sort  of  scientific  instrument.  He  passes  one 
tube  into  another,  puts  glasses  on  both  ends,  and  then 
directs  it  to  the  front  window  of  the  library,  which  is 
facing  the  street,  and  begins  his  observations.  Upon  dis 
covering  some  imperfections,  he  quickly  takes  the  glasses 
off,  separates  the  tubes,  examines  them,  makes  necessary 
improvements,  and  puts  them  once  more  in  the  shape  in 
tended. 

"Auntie,"  said  the  little  girl,  raising  her  pretty  little 
head  and  looking  at  the  lady  on  the  sofa,  "I  read  in  my 
history  that  Columbus  discovered  America.  Now,  why 
did  not  the  people  before  Columbus  discover  America?" 

Before  her  aunt  could  reply,  the  answer  came  from  the 
boy  machinist : 

"B-e-c-a-u-s-e  people  before  Columbus  did  not  know 
geography,"  he  said. 

The  little  girl  was  greatly  surprised  on  hearing  such 
an  unexpected  answer,  and  turning  to  the  boy  she  asked : 

"And  why  did  they  not  know  geography,  can  you  tell 
me?" 

"B-e-c-a-u-s-e" — the  answer  now  came  through  the 
tube  he  was  adjusting,  "there  was  no  geography." 


57 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


This  seemingly  evasive  answer  irritated  the  little  girl. 
She  closed  her  little  book  impatiently,  and  turning  to  him 
said  with  a  marked  resoluteness : 

"Now  you  don't  know  the  history,  Camille.  If  you  do, 
tell  me,  if  you  please,  why  there  was  no  geography?" 

"B-e-c-a-U'-s-e  there  was  no  America,"  replied  the  boy, 
with  the  calmness  of  a  grown  mail. 

The  girl  could  not  stay  in  her  chair  any  longer,  and 
in  a  second  she  was  on  the  sofa  hugging  her  aunt  and 
asking  her  to  explain  why  Camille  gave  such  a  stupid 
answer. 

By  this  time  Camille  had  adjusted  his  improvised  tele 
scope,  and  now  looking  through  it  into  the  front  window, 
he  evidently  saw  some  one  coming,  for  he  suddenly 
shouted  "I  see,"  and  instantly  dropped  his  instrument  on 
the  floor,  and  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow,  ran  to  the 
hall  and  out  on  the  street.  The  girl,  not  knowing  what 
had  happened  and  forgetting  that  she  was  on  the  sick 
list,  ran  after  him.  When  she  reached  the  hall,  she  saw 
through  the  open  front  door  what  attracted  Camille.  It 
was  her  sister,  Miss  Virginia,  who  was  coming.  The 
little  girl  ran  to  meet  her,  but  before  she  reached  the 
front  steps  of  the  veranda,  she  found  herself  in  the  arms 
of  her  sister. 

"Hello,  Corinne,  how;  do  you  feel  today,  sweetheart? 
Are  you  better?"  said  Miss  Virginia,  kissing  her  affec 
tionately. 

"Yes,  I  am  well,  all  well,"  said  Corinne,  with  a  smile 
that  expresses  so  much  in  a  child. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  standing 
on  the  veranda,  and  holding  Corinne's  little  hand,  "and 


58 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT    HOME. 


now,"  she  continued,  "tell  me,  what  my  little  darling  has 
been  doing  all  this  forenoon  while  I  was  away." 

"I  was  learning  my  French  lesson,  and " 

"History,"  ended  Camille  wistfully. 

"What  history?"  inquired  Miss  Virginia.  "You  better 
tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing,"  she  added,  looking 
at  the  boy  who  was  trying  to  get  hold  of  the  little  pack 
age  Miss  Virginia  held  in  her  hand. 

"I  was  fixing  my  new  telescope  and  teaching  Corinne 
history,"  answered  Camille  in  a  most  dignified  manner. 

"No,  no;  he  was  not  teaching  me  history,"  protested 
Corinne.  "Camille  said  some  things  which  are  not  to  be 
found  in  my  book  and  I  asked  auntie  about  it,  and 

"Let  us  go  to  auntie  and  we  will  see  what  is  the  mat 
ter,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  entering  the  library  with  the 
two  children. 

"Oh,  how  tired  I  feel,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  putting  her 
hat  on  the  table  standing  in  the  center  of  the  room,  and 
turning  to  the  lady  still  sitting  on  the  sofa  she  inquired : 

"What  is  it  about  this  history  that  Corinne  is  so  vigor 
ously  protesting  against,  auntie?" 

Mrs.  Pratt  raised  her  eyeglasses  and  laughing  heartily 
said : 

"Well,  it  is  one  of  those  sayings  that  Camille  some 
times  produces  so  freely,"  and  then  she  related  the  whole 
conversation  which  took  place  between  the  children. 

Miss  Virginia  took  the  nearest  chair  and  Corinne  ran 
to  her  insisting  that  she  should  explain  whether  Camille 
was  right. 

Forced  to  assume  her  customary  role  of  a  judge  and 
pacifier,  after  she  had  heard  from  her  aunt  all  that  was 
said,  Miss  Virginia  thought  for  a  while  and  then  ex- 


59 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


plained  to  the  fullest  satisfaction  of  Corinne  that  Camille 
was  right  in  some  respects,  namely,  that  there  was  no 
geography  such  as  we  have  now  before  the  discovery  of 
America,  and  that  such  a  one  could  be  made  only  after 
the  occurrence  of  that  event.  But  of  course  Camille  was 
wrong  in  assuming  that  discovery  could  be  made  after 
the  new  land  was  known.  Then  looking  around  she  in 
quired  : 

'Where  is  Charley?" 

"He  is  in  the  parlor  mutilating  Mozart,"  answered 
Camille,  stealthily  looking  at  his  aunt. 

"Mutilating  Mozart!  What  an  expression!  You 
mean  to  say  that  he  is  playing  Mozart's  sonata,"  re 
marked  Miss  Virginia. 

"No,  I  mean  just  what  auntie  means,"  answered  Ca 
mille  bravely.  "When  Charley  plays  that  sonata  of  his, 
auntie  says  that  she  pities  Mozart  being  so  mutilated  by 
Charley." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  petting  Corinne's  little 
hand  resting  on  her  knee.  "Auntie  simply  means  that 
Charley  does  not  play  his  sonata  well;  but  he  will,"  she 
added.  "I  wish  you  were  as  good  a  musician  as  your 
brother  Charley  is." 

"And  who  is  going  to  build  the  telescope,  survey  the 
skies,  and  tell  us  all  about  the  planets  and  stars?"  said 
Mrs.  Pratt,  looking  at  Camille. 

"Look!  look!  Virginia,"  said  Corinne,  directing  her 
sister's  attention  to  Camille's  desk.  "There  he  spent  his 
morning  destroying  the  old  telescope  and  not  being  able 
to  make  a  new  one." 

This  was  too  much  for  Camille.  He  ran  to  his  desk, 
brought  his  newly  made  telescope,  and  pointing  at  it  with 


60 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT    HOME. 


his  forefinger  said  with  the  dignity  becoming  a  professor  : 

''It  was  through  this  telescope  that  I  discovered  you 
coming  home,  Virginia;  and  if  you  only  let  me  use  that 
tower  on  the  corner  of  the  house  I  will  discover  a  good 
many  other  things." 

When  Corinne  heard  about  the  tower,  she  jumped  on 
the  floor  and  was  ready  to  say  something  about  the 
menacing  danger  to  the  town  in  case  her  younger  brother. 
Camille,  should  establish  his  researches  in  it,  but  Charley 
interrupted  her,  entering  the  room. 

"Virginia,"  said  Charley,  "there  was  some  one  here 
this  morning  inquiring  about  you." 

"Some  one  inquiring  about  me?"  repeated  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  trying  to  guess  who  that  could  be. 

"Yes,"  said  Charley,  putting  a  pretty  bouquet  he  had 
brought  with  him  in  an  empty  Pompeian  vase  standing  on 
the  table. 

"It  was  Mr.  Montgomery.  He  was  here  about  an 
hour  ago,  and  when  I  told  him  you  were  not  at  home, 
he  said  he  would  call  again." 

Hearing  this  name,  Miss  Virginia  knit  her  brows,  and 
as  though  wishing  to  free  herself  of  some  unpleasant 
thought,  arose  and  went  upstairs.  But  before  she 
reached  her  room  the  ringing  of  the  door  bell  was  heard, 
and  shortly  Charley  announced  that  Mr.  Montgomery 
was  in  the  parlor  wishing  to  see  Miss  Virginia. 

This  announcement  caused  one  of  those  sensations 
Miss  Virginia  often  times  had  to  combat  vigorously. 
She  did  not  wish  to  see  this  man  now  in  the  parlor.  Not 
that  she  had  any  thing1  particular  against  him,  but  simply 
because  he  was  one  of  those  individuals  who  seldom  had 
anything  interesting  to  say.  Besides,  owing  to  his  in- 


61 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


ability  of  thinking,  his  views  in  regard  to  problems  of 
life  were  those  of  a  primitive  man.  Young,  handsome, 
and  wealthy,  he  was  a  welcome  guest  among  those  who 
saw  the  world  running  according  to  epicurean  schedule. 
Being  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  existence,  he  never 
thought  there  could  be  anything  but  one  aim  in  life, 
which  consisted  in  satisfying  the  so-called  inborn  inclina 
tions  in  man.  In  his  estimation  the  man  who  knew  how 
to  satisfy  his  wants,  his  desires,  was  the  greatest  sage. 
He  saw  the  beginning  of  the  man  in  his  birth  and  the 
end  in  his  death.  Life  was  too  short  to  be  devoted  to 
anything  outside  of  what  constituted  the  manner  of  liv 
ing.  Anything  that  passed  the  limits  of  that  little  hori 
zon  which  he  called  "his  life"  was  a  hopelessly  unsolv- 
able  dilemma,  a  chimera  of  fools,  and  he  was  not  a  fool. 
This  much  he  knew,  and  this  knowledge  satisfied  him. 
Wishing  to  be  consistent  with  his  own  wisdom,  he 
governed  himself  accordingly,  and  little  he  thought  of 
those  men  and  women  who  differed  with  him  on  those 
matters.  Amongst  what  he  called  necessities  of  life  for 
a  man,  he  had  benignantly  included  the  love  for  a  woman. 
Of  course  not  for  any  woman  that  he  happened  to 
meet,  but  for  a  woman  of  his  choice.  Owing  to  his  so 
cial  standing,  he  had  a  long  list  of  pretty  girls  amongst 
his  acquaintances,  many  of  whom  would  feel  highly 
honored  had  he  wished  to  bestow  upon  any  of  them  his 
attentions.  But  due  to  some  unexplainable  fatality  his 
choice  fell  upon  one  who  was  not  of  the  number  men 
tioned.  The  girl  he  had  chosen  was  no  one  else  but  this 
same  Miss  Virginia  Gladston.  He  saw  in  her  a  beautiful 
girl,  an  attractive  girl,  nothing  but  a  girl.  He  knew 
well  that  this  object  of  his  love  was  something  far  above 


62 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT     HOME. 


his  level,  and  not  easily  obtainable;  but  he  also  knew  that 
he  was  nothing  but  a  slave  to  his  passion,  and  the  object 
of  this  passion  was  the  girl  he  came  to  see.  Was  not  he 
young,  handsome  and  rich  ?  Were  not  these  qualities 
before  which  any  and  all  female  legions  would  bow  ? 

Such  was  the  personality  of  the  man  Miss  Virginia 
had  to  entertain  in  her  home.  She  knew  him  and  his  as 
pirations  thoroughly  well.  She  knew  also  that  there 
was  nothing  common  between  him  and  herself,  and  on 
several  occasions  she  tried  to  make  him  understand  this, 
but  all  was  in  vain.  He  showered  upon  her  his  atten 
tions  whenever  circumstances  permitted,  in  his  crude  and 
grotesque  way,  which  made  him  appear  less  gallant  than 
he  intended  to  be.  This  annoyed  Miss  Virginia  very 
much,  but  her  naturally  gentle  and  kind  disposition  would 
not  permit  her  for  a  moment  to  be  disagreeable  towards 
anybody,  and  especially  toward  those  who  claimed  the 
privilege  of  a  friend,  amongst  whom  this  young  man 
had  classified  himself.  She  knew  that  she  had  at  her 
command  the  necessary  amount  of  tact  which  would  not 
fail  to  protect  her  in  the  event  of  an  undesirable  situation, 
and  this  was  sufficient  to  enable  her  to  face  any  foe.  Be 
sides,  she  had  conceived  a  plan  by  which  she  intended 
to  defeat  his  aspirations,  forcing  him  to  a  more  reason 
able  consideration.  The  plan  was  to  unfold  before  him 
gradually  his  proper  place  in  relation  to  herself,  and 
thus  compel  him  to  abandon  his  designs.  This  object  in 
view,  Miss  Virginia  came  down  slowly  and  entered  the 
parlor. 

"Hello,  Miss  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Montgomery,  when 
he  saw  her  entering  the  room.  "How  do  you  do  this 
morning?"  he  added,  approaching  her  to  shake  hands. 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"I  am  very  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Miss  Virginia, 
motioning  him  to  a  chair. 

Mr.  Montgomery  threw  himself  on  the  indicated  chair, 
awkwardly  crossing  his  legs.  He  looked  at  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  who  was  now  seated  on  a  sofa  near  the  front  win 
dow,  with  an  expression  of  a  man  who  has  lost  his  wit. 
Finally  he  ventured  to  say: 

"This  is  my  second  call  today,  Miss  Virginia." 

"May  I  ask,  what  caused  you  to  take  so  much  trouble?" 
asked  Miss  Virginia,  thoughtfully. 

"Oh,  no  trouble  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Montgomery,  adjust 
ing  a  diamond  ring  on  his  left  hand  and  looking  wist 
fully  at  her  as  though  wishing  to  guess  whether  to  pro 
ceed  with  his  subject  or  not. 

"You  know  I  am  always  delighted  to  see  you,  Miss 
Virginia,"  he  said.  "I  came  today  to  ask  whether  you 
would  go  with  me  to  the  Mason  Opera  House  tonight. 
There  is  a  good  company  giving  a  fine  play,  'When  we 
were  twenty-one/  doncher  know?" 

"This  is  very  kind  of  you,"  answered  Miss  Virginia, 
"but  you  know  I  have  not  been  to  any  amusement  places 
for  the  last  two  years,  and  really  I  have  no  desire  to  go 
to  one." 

"That  is  too  bad,"  remarked  Mr.  Montgomery.  "It  is 
not  natural  to  a  young  girl  like  you  to  lead  such  a  se 
cluded  life  as  that.  I  noticed  this  when  you  refused  to 
go  with  me  to  the  horse  races  and  again  to  the  circus. 
But  at  that  time  I  thought  perhaps  you  did  not  like 
amusements  of  that  kind  and  that  is  why  I  concluded  to 
ask  you  to  go  with  me  to  the  theatre." 

"It  is  not  the  kind  of  amusement  that  makes  me  take 
the  stand  I  have  taken.  It  is  a  simple  case  of  dislike  to  all 


64 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT    HOME. 


sorts  of  amusements,  at  least  for  the  present,"  answered 
Miss  Virginia. 

"But  don't  you  think  it  abnormal  for  a  girl  of  your 
beauty,  your  talents  and  accomplishments,  to  refuse  to 
be  amused  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Montgomery,  with  a  smile  in 
dicating  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  a  moralist  who  has 
just  delivered  a  striking  sentence. 

Hearing  this  Miss  Virginia  knit  her  brow,  which  was 
a  sign  of  her  displeasure,  for  she  had  an  uncontrollable 
abhorrence  of  all  sorts  of  flattering  expressions,  especial 
ly  when  they  were  delivered  with  the  express  intent  to 
arouse  her  vanity,  of  which  she  did  not  feel  guilty.  But 
suddenly  a  thought  came  to  her,  why  should  she  not  util 
ize  this  unintentionally  given  opportunity  to  show  how 
little  meaning  was  attached  to  the  words  addressed  to 
her? 

"Abnormal!"  she  repeated,  turning  a  little  statue  of 
Niobe  standing  on  a  small  round  table  next  to  the  sofa, 
so  as  to  have  a  view  of  its  profile — "Abnormal!  Then 
you  think  in  order  to  make  the  life  of  an  accomplished 
girl  normal,  the  gt>ing  to  theatres  and  similar  places 
must  necessarily  be  on  the  program?  If  that  is  the  case, 
where  is  the  merit  of  her  accomplishment?" 

"Why,  the  merit  of  her  accomplishment  is  in  the  fact, 
when  she  sees  a  good  play,  hears  a  good  joke,  she  knows 
how  to  appreciate,  and  enjoys  them,"  answered  Mr. 
Montgomery. 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Montgomery,"  said  Miss  Virginia, 
"but  you  are  not  answering  my  question.  You  are  tell 
ing  me  what  an  accomplished  girl  would  do  when  she 
sees  a  good  play  and  hears  a  good  joke.  The  question 
I  asked  you  is :  where  is  the  merit  of  the  accomplishments 


65 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


in  a  girl  if  going  to  theatres,  races  and  circuses  are  a 
necessity  to  her?  That  they  are  a  necessity,  you  stated 
clearly  by  saying  that  an  accomplished  girl's  life  would 
be  abnormal  if  she  did  not  take  interest  in  amusements 
of  the  sort  you  mentioned.  It  must  be  a  poorly  accom 
plished  girl  indeed,  whose  life  without  them  is  abnormal. 
But  from  what  you  said  I  conclude,  that  we  do  not 
understand  the  subject  on  hand  in  the  same  way.  In 
order  to  make  the  question  clear,  I  would  like  to  ask  you, 
what  do  you  understand  by  the  accomplishments  of  a 
girl?" 

"What  I  understand  by  it  is  simply  this,"  answered 
Mr.  Montgomery.  "A  girl  who  has  had  a  fair  education, 
who  plays  the  piano,  knows  how  to  dress  herself,  knows 
how  to  dance  rather  nicely  and  some  other  little  things. 
This  is  my  idea  of  what  we  generally  call  an  accomplished 
girl." 

"I  see  you  are  not  extravagant  in  your  requirements," 
remarked  Miss  Virginia,  "but  evidently  you  forgot  to 
add  to  the  above  qualifications  one  which  is  very  impor 
tant,  namely,  that  the  accomplished  girl  must  also  know 
how  to  please  a  gentleman!  This  type " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  interrupted  Mr.  Montgomery,  smiling, 
"you  said  just  what  I  inadvertently  omitted  to  say.  Un 
doubtedly  in  a  girl  the  knowledge  how  to  please  a  gen 
tleman  is  the  crown  of  her  accomplishments." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  petting  a  large- 
sized  Maltese  cat  lying  near  her  on  the  sofa.  "If  I  am  not 
mistaken,  I  have  a  complete  picture  of  an  accomplished 
girl  of  your  make  up.  That  girl  sometimes  likes  to  chew 
gum,  and  she  whistles  like  an  old  Dragon  whenever  and 
wherever  her  fancy  takes  her.  She  also  crosses  her  legs 


66 


Miss  Virginia  in  Her  Eighteenth  Year 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT     HOME. 


while  sitting  in  public  places,  and  rides  a  horse  like  an 
Arizona  cow-boy.    You  don't  mind  that,  do  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  these  are  little  things,  and  besides,  whatever 
a  pretty  girl  does  is  always  pretty,  doncher  know?"  said 
Mr.  Montgomery,  with  a  sort  of  contentment. 

"Well,"  remarked  Miss  Virginia,  still  petting  her  Mal 
tese  cat,  "This  is  exactly  where  we  differ.  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  would  like  to  hear  my  opinion  on  the  sub 
ject  ;  nevertheless  I  venture  to  say  that  accomplishments 
in  a  girl  as  I  understand  it  is  that  which  constitutes  ex 
cellence  of  mind  and  elegance  of  manners  acquired  by 
education  or  training;  but  above  all,  self-contentment, 
self-control,  self-respect  and  love  of  home  life,  are  the 
main  levers  of  an  accomplished  girl's  life.  Home  life 
presents  such  a  great  variety  of  field  for  the  activity  of  a 
girl,  young  or  old,  that  if  she  puts  in  it  her  soul  and 
heart,  attractions  outside  of  home  necessarily  become 
of  secondary  consideration ;  and  consequently  there  is  no 
danger  of  any  sort  of  abnormality  for  her  as  you  have 
asserted.  This  I  know  too  well.  As  for  your  estimation 
of  the  subject  it  can  be  summed  up  in  this : 
'Accomplishments  have  taken  virtue's  place 
And  wisdom  falls  before  exterior  grace !' ' 

"This  is  too  much  of  poetry,"  said  Mr.  Montgomery, 
slowly  curling  his  small  mustache.  "A  girl  cannot  stay 
home  all  the  time ;  she  must  go  out,  meet  people  and  en 
joy  life." 

"Enjoy  life!"  That  is  another  phrase  which  might  be 
interpreted  in  a  thousand  ways,"  said  Miss  Virginia. 
"In  order  to  know  what  is  the  enjoyment  of  life,  one 
must  first  have  a  defined  idea  of  life  itself." 

"Simplest  thing  in  the  world,"  answered  Mr.  Mont- 


67 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


gomery,  in  a  careless  manner.  "Live  the  best  you  can,  that 
is  satisfy  your  wants,  follow  your  inclinations,  and  en 
joy  the  results." 

"Satisfy  your  wants,  follow  your  inclinations!"  re 
peated  Miss  Virginia  thoughtfully.  Then  raising  the 
well  formed  head  of  her  Maltese  cat  in  both  hands,  and 
looking  at  it  attentively,  she  continued;  "This  is  ex 
actly  what  Fedo  does.  When  he  is  hungry,  he  goes  to 
the  kitchen  and  through  his  mewing  he  gets  what  he 
wants.  Then  he  runs  in  search  of  a  mouse  just  for  fun ; 
and  sometimes  he  attempts  to  catch  the  birds  in  the  air, 
and  he  is  content.  You  see,  he  satisfies  his  wants  and  fol 
lows  his  inclinations.  Is  not  he  strictly  following  the  sys 
tem  you  are  advocating?" 

"Well,  but  Pedo  is  a  cat.  I  am  speaking  of  man,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Montgomery. 

Here  Miss  Virginia  burst  into  merry  laughter,  and 
turning  to  him  said  gaily : 

"Now,  Mr.  Montgomery,  I  am  very  serious  about 
what  I  am  going  to  ask  you.  Can  you  tell  me  the  dif 
ference  between  this  cat  and  yourself?" 

Mr.  Montgomery  looked  greatly  surprised,  and  a 
forced  smile  on  his  face  indicated  the  absence  of  all 
thought.  But  in  order  to  say  something  he  murmured, 
looking  at  his  watch; 

"Oh,  well,  you  turn  the  thing  into  a  joke;  but  I  see  it 
is  getting  late  and  I  must  go." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  in  a  hilarious  tone,  "I  will 
not  detain  you,  Mr.  Montgomery,  but  before  you  leave, 
you  must  promise  me  to  think  about  the  subject,  and  the 
next  time  you  see  me,  you  will  kindly  give  me  your  solu 
tion." 


68 


MISS     VIRGINIA     AT     HOME. 

"Solution  of  what?"  inquired  Mr.  Montgomery,  some 
what  discouraged. 

"The  solution  of  my  question,  namely ;  can  you  find  the 
difference  between  my  cat  and  your  man,  and  if  you  do, 
you  must  tell  me  in  what  that  difference  consists." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Montgomery  was  in  the  hall.  He 
took  his  hat  hastily,  and  saying  good  by,  ran  to  the  side 
walk,  where  his  automobile  with  his  chauffeur  was  wait 
ing  for  him.  He  took  his  seat  in  the  car,  gave  instruc 
tions  to  his  man  and  shortly  disappeared  behind  the  wil 
low  trees,  turning  to  a  side  street. 

"You  seem  to  have  enjoyed  the  visit,"  said  Mrs.  Pratt, 
when  she  saw  Miss  Virginia  entering  the  library.  "We 
have  been  waiting  for  you  to  lunch." 

"Yes,  I  have  been  greatly  amused,"  answered  Miss 
Virginia,  following  her  aunt  into  the  dining  room,  and 
taking  her  seat.  The  little  Corinne  ran  to  her  holding 
her  napkin  in  her  hand,  which  Miss  Virginia  spread  on 
her  chest,  fastening  its  two  corners  behind  her  shoulders 
with  a  pin,  and  helping  her  to  the  chair  on  her  right  hand 
side.  Camille  took  his  seat  on  her  left  and  Charley  sat 
next  to  his  aunt  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 

"Amused  with  what?"  inquired  Mrs.  Pratt,  helping 
herself  from  the  dish  served  by  the  maid. 

"Amused  with  the  reasoning  of  a  modern  man  who 
knows  little  of  the  importance  of  what  he  says,"  an 
swered  Miss  Virginia. 

"You  mean  Mr.  Montgomery;  but  by-the-way,  will 
you  tell  me  what  was  his  object  in  coming  here  twice 
today?"  inquired  Mrs.  Pratt  again. 

"Oh,  one  of  those  objects  which  fill  the  empty  life  of 
that  class  of  men  to  which  Mr.  Montgomery  belongs. 


69 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


But  auntie,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  "I  have  to  tell  you 
something  more  interesting  than  the  conversation  with 
Mr.  Montgomery."  Here  she  gave  an  interesting  narra 
tive  of  her  visit  of  that  morning  to  the  Ebell  club  house. 
She  described  the  embroidered  picture  she  saw  there  so 
vividly  that  Mrs.  Pratt  decided  to  go  and  see  it  the  next 
day.  She  also  told  her  aunt  that  she  met  Mrs.  Milton, 
who  inquired  about  her  and  promised  to  visit  them  soon, 
and  ended  by  summarizing  the  contents  of  the  letter  she 
read  in  which  Mr.  Milton  described  his  trip  to  Tallac 
Mountain  and  his  meeting  there  an  old  friend  of  his. 

"This  friend  of  Mr.  Milton,"  added  Miss  Virginia, 
"who  happens  to  be  a  nobleman  of  note,  is  coming  to  lo 
cate  in  Los  Angeles  and  I  hope  you  will  invite  him  to 
our  Tuesdays,  auntie." 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Pratt.  As  soon  as  we  are 
able  to  resume  our  literary  meetings  I  am  going  to  see 
Mrs.  Milton  about  it,  and  hope  we  shall  enjoy  the  pres 
ence  of  this  interesting  gentleman." 

While  Miss  Virginia  was  conversing  with  her  aunt, 
the  children  were  listening  attentively.  But,  judging 
from  the  haste  with  wrhich  they  were  consuming  their 
midday  meal,  it  was  easy  to  conclude  that  they  had  their 
little  affairs  in  view  regarding  the  afternoon  hours.  Char 
ley  was  planning  to  spend  his  afternoon  on  the  public 
play  grounds  where  an  interesting  performance  of  his 
young  friends  was  promised.  Camille  was  anxious  to 
see  the  big  movable  telescope,  then  temporarily  stationed 
on  Broadway  in  order  to  observe  the  big  spots  on  the  sun. 
Corinne  was  of  the  opinion  that  she  was  entitled  to 
spend  her  afternoon  with  the  little  girl  of  her  age  living 
next  door.  But,  according  to  the  established  rule,  all 


70 


MISS     VIRGINIA     AT     HOME. 

these  projects  had  to  be  submitted  to  the  approval  and 
sanction  of  Miss  Virginia,  who  was  exercising  the  author, 
ity  of  their  mother.  Knowing  well  how  to  promote  their 
interests  effectively  before  leaving  the  table,  each  one  of 
them  presented  his  case  in  such  a  charming  way,  that 
Miss  Virginia  willingly  acceded  to  their  wishes,  and  as 
soon  as  they  were  ready  they  parted  with  that  happy 
thoughtlessness  which  is  proper  to  their  age. 

After  the  children  had  gone,  Mrs.  Pratt  made  a  few 
remarks  in  regard  to  the  household  affairs,  and  follow 
ing  her  habit,  she  retired  to  enjoy  a  little  siesta. 

Left  alone,  Miss  Virginia  went  to  her  room,  which 
was  located  on  the  second  floor,  on  the  eastern  corner 
of  the  house.  One  of  its  large  windows  faced  the  east, 
through  which  the  first  smiling  rays  of  the  continually 
bright  California  sun,  every  morning  announced  the  be 
ginning  of  the  day.  The  white  flowers  of  Wistaria 
Sinensis  hanging  around  the  window  entirely  covering 
its  frame,  made  it  appear  from  the  outside  as  though  this 
was  an  opening  to  some  enchanted  spot.  The  appear 
ance  was  fully  justified,  for  this  was  the  prettiest  part 
of  the  house.  Entering  the  room.  Miss  Virginia  went 
directly  to  the  little  working  desk  she  had  for  her  ex 
clusive  use.  The  first  thing  she  noticed  was  a  pretty 
little  bouquet  of  bright  white  roses  known  as  Bride, 
freshly  put  there  in  a  small  vase  masterfully  painted  by 
hand.  She  looked  at  the  bouquet  with  an  expression  of 
delight.  "It  is  the  work  of  one  of  the  children — one  of 
my  children,"  thought  Miss  Virginia.  "They  love  me." 
she  went  on  thinking,  "all  three  of  them  love  me  tender 
ly,  but  oh,  how  little  they  know  how  much  I  love  them." 
Then  seated  on  her  chair,  she  took  the  writing  paper  on 


71 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


which  one  half  of  the  page  was  already  written.  It  was 
an  essay  on  "Applied  Pedagogy,"  that  she  was  writing 
for  her  own  instruction.  In  order  to  refresh  her  memory, 
she  took  a  book  from  the  pretty  little  book-case  standing 
next  to  her.  This  was  a  French  author  whose  views  on 
the  subject  she  was  analyzing,  giving  to  it  a  form  which 
she  thought  would  be  more  practicable,  at  least  in  her 
own  case.  After  consulting  the  book,  and  while  putting 
it  back  to  its  place  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  small  oaken 
box  resting  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  book-case.  Simultan 
eously  an  awakened  thought  began  its  workings  through 
her  mind  which  caused  a  radical  change  in  her  counten 
ance.  From  being  quiet  and  self-possessed,  she  became 
disturbed  and  erratic.  After  some  hesitation,  she  took 
the  box  with  an  unsteady  hand,  put  it  on  her  desk,  and 
opened  it  with  a  little  key  she  kept  in  a  secret  drawer. 
Then  she  took  out  of  it  a  big  bunch  of  letters  tied  to 
gether  with  a  red  ribbon.  The  appearance  of  the  letters 
and  that  of  the  ribbon  indicated  that  they  were  of  an  old 
date.  Evidently  she  intended  to  untie  the  ribbon  in  order 
to  examine  the  letters,  but  before  she  had  time  to  do  so, 
her  hand  holding  the  bundle  dropped  heavily  on  the 
desk.  She  raised  her  head  and  now  was  gazing  through 
the  window  she  was  facing.  Her  face  assumed  an  ex 
pression  of  indescribable  sadness  and  calm  suffering. 
She  sighed  deeply  and  for  the  moment  was  lost  in  her 
revery.  Gradually  her  face  inflamed  with  color,  and  her 
intelligent  eyes  were  filled  with  moisture.  In  a  second 
her  face  was  buried  in  her  handkerchief  held  in  both 
hands,  and  her  classically  chiseled  head  dropped  on  the 
desk.  She  remained  in  this  posture  for  a  few  seconds. 
Suddenly,  as  though  by  a  shock,  she  arose  brusquely, 


72 


MISS    VIRGINIA    AT     HOME. 


passed  her  handkerchief  over  her  face,  drying  her  eyes. 
Then  she  took  the  bunch  of  letters  and  without  untying 
put  it  back  in  the  box  and  returned  it  to  its  place.  Now 
her  expression  became  virile ;  in  place  of  sadness  and  de 
spondency,  a  resolute  decision  denoting  fortitude  and 
self-possession  made  itself  manifest.  She  took  the  pen 
lying  before  her  and  began  to  write  nervously,  with  an 
agitation  clearly  indicating  her  determination  not  to  give 
up  to  the  sentiments  which  a  little  while  ago  so  merciless 
ly  shook  her  whole  heart  and  soul.  This  state  of  agita 
tion  however  was  not  of  long  duration,  for  shortly  she 
felt  utterly  exhausted,  and  rising  from  her  seat  she 
sought  needful  repose  in  a  restorative  sleep. 


73 


CHAPTER  V. 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


What  was  going  on  in  the  soul  of  this  charming  girl  ? 
What  was  it  that  so  mercilessly  moved  her  to  heart-break 
ing  sadness  and  tears  ?  That  bunch  of  letters  she  seemed 
to  be  afraid  to  untie  and  gaze  upon,  did  it  contain  the 
cruel  missive  conveying  the  dismal  tidings  which  tor 
tured  her  every  time  she  thought  of  it? 

In  order  to  unfold  this  mysterious  cause  of  her  intense 
sufferings,  we  must  go  back  to  the  epoch  when  these  let 
ters  came  into  existence  and  acquaint  ourselves  with  the 
history  of  the  family. 

Her  father,  Edward  B.  Gladston,  was  a  literary  man. 
He  was  born  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  where  he  spent  his 
boyhood  days  with  his  parents.  His  father  was  an 
Englishman,  who  while  a  young  man  had  come  and  set 
tled  in  that  city.  When  Edward  had  graduated  from  the 
school  of  his  native  city,  the  question  arose,  as  to  what 
direction  should  be  given  to  complete  his  higher  educa 
tion.  For  some  reasons  known  only  to  his  father,  Charles 
Gladston,  he  was  sent  to  England  to  attend  Oxford 
University.  Edward  being  the  only  child,  his  father 
wished  to  give  him  the  best  obtainable  training;  and 


74 


GLADS  TON    FAMILY. 


whether  it  was  because  he  thought,  that  Oxford  Uni 
versity  was  the  best  institution  of  learning,  or  because 
it  was  his  own  Alma  Mater,  he  decided  to  have  his  son 
Edward  graduated  there.  Besides  he  had  a  brother  in 
London,  the  only  member  of  his  family  living,  who  had 
no  children,  and  was  only  too  glad  to  have  his  nephew, 
the  young  American,  under  his  tutelage.  Thus  the 
proper  arrangements  were  made  and  under  the  direction 
of  his  uncle,  Edward  entered  the  said  University.  While 
there,  he  developed  an  extraordinary  liking  for  Arch 
aeology,  and  having  selected  for  his  special  study  the  art 
of  deciphering  the  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  cuneiform  in 
scriptions,  he  soon  made  excellent  progress  in  that  direc 
tion  and  became  a  qualified  expert  on  the  subject.  Fin 
ally,  after  his  graduation,  he  came  back  to  his  native 
country,  where  shortly  he  met  the  lady  of  his  heart,  Miss 
Clara  Buckingham,  and  married  her.  After  two  years  of 
happy  married  life,  he  received  a  communication  from 
his  uncle  in  London  stating  that  the  British  Archaeologi 
cal  Society  had  decided  to  send  two  experts  in  Assyrian 
Antiquities  to  attend  the  excavations,  then  in  operation  in 
a  locality  called  Nemrud  near  the  city  of  Mosul,  in  Asi 
atic  Turkey  and  in  this  connection  his  name,  as  that  of 
the  best  expert  in  Assyrian  cuneiform  inscriptions,  had 
been  mentioned,  and  if  he  wished,  he  could  obtain  the  ap 
pointment.  To  this  query,  he  immediately  answered  that 
he  would  be  only  too  glad  to  be  one  of  the  commission, 
and  a  couple  of  months  later,  he  took  his  wife  with  him 
and  went  to  London,  wrhere  the  details  were  arranged  to 
his  satisfaction,  and  shortly,  in  company  with  Professor 
A.  G.  Norton,  of  London,  and  his  wife  they  started  for 
their  destination.  It  was  of  necessity  that  they  should 


75 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


first  go  to  Constantinople,  where,  through  the  offices  of 
the  English  Embassy,  they  obtained  the  necessary  docu 
ments  from  the  Turkish  Government  in  order  to  secure 
proper  protection  for  their  safety  from  the  local  govern 
ments,  through  the  Turkish  territory  where  they  had  to 
travel.  An  English  steamer  took  them  from  Constanti 
nople  to  Alexandretta,  a  small  sea-port  on  the  Mediter 
ranean.  From  that  city  they  traveled  on  horseback  with 
a  specially  organized  caravan,  crossing  the  cities  of  Alep 
po,  Orfa,  Merdin,  Jesireh,  and  finally  after  thirty-five 
days'  tedious  travel,  they  reached  their  future  headquar 
ters,  the  city  of  Mosul.  From  this  city  Mr.  Gladston  and 
Prof.  Norton  made  their  periodical  trips  to  the  place 
where  excavations  were  going  on,  and  which  is  known 
as  Nemrud.  The  results  of  the  discoveries  made  there 
are  well  known  to  the  Archaeologists  of  Europe  and 
America.  The  large  plates  with  the  Assyrian  cuneiform 
inscriptions  and  bas-reliefs  of  the  epoch  of  Nineveh  ex 
cavated  in  Nemrud  are  to  be  found  in  great  number  in 
the  British  Museum  in  London,  besides  those  few  to  be 
seen  in  the  city  of  Mosul.  After  the  two  years'  stay 
there,  Mr.  Gladston,  having  ended  his  commission,  re 
turned  to  London  with  his  wife,  where  they  spent  several 
weeks  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  his  uncle,  and  finally 
they  came  back  to  their  native  city  of  Richmond.  When 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  arrived  home,  there  was  great 
joy  in  the  family,  for  this  young  couple  presented  their 
aged  parents  with  a  charming  little  baby  girl,  about  seven 
months  old,  whom  they  had  named  after  their  own 
native  land,  Virginia.  After  this,  Mr.  Gladston  made 
several  trips  to  Europe  and  Asia  in  the  interest  of  the 
subject  to  which  he  was  devoting  his  entire  time  and 


76 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


labor.  In  the  meantime  his  family  continued  to  live  in 
the  city  of  Richmond.  Several  years  elapsed  in  the  en 
joyment  of  peaceful  life  by  this  Virginian  family,  which 
by  this  time  had  increased  in  number,  for  they  had  two 
more  children,  two  robust  and  well  formed  boys.  But 
unfortunately  for  the  family,  Mr.  Gladston,  as  a  result 
of  his  constant  travels,  contracted  a  complication  of  dis 
eases,  and  was  forced  to  look  for  a  more  suitable  climate. 
His  parents  being  dead,  he  disposed  of  all  his  consider 
able  property  in  Richmond,  and  permanently  settled  with 
his  family  in  Los  Angeles.  He  built  the  exceedingly  com 
fortable  house  where  we  found  his  children  living.  Hard 
ly  were  they  established  in  their  new  home,  when  the 
youngest  child,  the  little  Corinne,  was  born  to  them. 
This  joyful  event,  however,  was  shortly  marred  by 
the  inevitable  death  of  Mr.  Gladston.  It  was  a  great 
sorrow  to  the  family,  indeed,  for  he  was  a  good  and  af 
fectionate  husband,  and  a  tender  loving  father.  Three 
years  after  the  death  of  the  father,  another  much  more 
momentous  sorrow  befell  the  family.  This  time  it  was 
Mrs.  Gladston,  who  followed  her  beloved  husband,  leav 
ing  her  children  orphans.  When  this  happened,  Miss 
Virginia  was  in  her  eighteenth  year,  Charley  was  only 
nine.  Camille  six,  and  Corinne  in  her  fourth  year.  These 
events  undoubtedly  would  have  produced  deplorable  re 
sults  upon  Miss  Virginia,  who  now  became  the  head  of 
the  family,  were  it  not  for  the  fact,  that  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
Pratt,  a  sister  of  her  mother,  formerly  Miss  Frances 
Buckingham,  after  the  death  of  her  short-lived  husband, 
had  made  her  home  with  the  Gladston  family.  As  an 
elderly  person,  she  became  a  sort  of  guardian  over  the 
bereaved  children  of  her  sister. 


77 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Here  begins  the  life  of  Miss  Virginia. 

Up  to  this  time,  among  happy  girls  she  was  the  hap 
piest.  Naturally  of  a  cheerful  disposition,  she  was  sun 
shine  wherever  she  happened  to  be.  At  home  she  was 
the  central  figure  of  all  that  constituted  family  life.  An 
idolized  child  as  she  was,  without  her  everything  seemed 
dormant  and  inactive.  Gifted  with  what  people  call 
"natural  abilities,"  free  of  care,  nothing  to  interfere  with 
her  pleasures  and  desires,  she  followed  her  inclinations, 
cultivating  those  branches  of  her  education  which  she 
liked  the  best.  She  loved  science  and  art  and  took  great 
delight  in  exploring  them.  Following  the  advice  of  her 
mother,  who,  while  traveling  in,  foreign  countries,  had 
learned  how  to  value  a  knowledge  of  foreign  languages, 
she  had  learned  French  almost  to  perfection.  All  these 
occupations  however  did  not  interfere  with  her  training 
in  things  pertaining  to  home  life.  But  now  that  there 
was  no  father  and  no  mother,  who  would  take  care  of 
these  three  children?  In  the  hours  of  her  depressing 
sorrow,  before  the  remains  of  her  mother  disappeared 
from  the  house  forever,  she  went  for  a  last  farewell. 
There  she  was  lying,  cold  and  rigid ;  yet,  she  thought 
she  heard  her  mother  speaking  to  her,  yes,  she  thought 
she  heard  her  mother's  wishes,  and  promptly  replied,  look 
ing  at  the  now  pallid  face  before  her;  "Yes,  dear 
mother,"  she  murmured  tenderly,  "I  understand  you,  and 
I  promise  you  solemnly,  faithfully,  I  will  take  your  place ; 
I  will  follow  your  footsteps  to  the  last  moment  of  my 
life.  I  will  draw  my  courage  and  fortitude  out  of  the 
love  for  you,  which  you  have  planted  in  my  heart." 
Warm  tears  covering  her  youthful  face  were  the  only 
witnesses  of  this  solemn  promise  of  a  loving  daughter. 


78 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


After  this,  when  nothing  but  sweet  remembrances  of  her 
mother  were  left  to  her,  she  laid  aside  all  that  pertained 
to  her  person,  in  fact  forgot  her  own  personality,  and  de 
cided  to  give  all  her  time  devotedly,  tenderly,  to  the  care 
and  education  of  her  little  sister  and  her  two  brothers. 
Her  unusual  attachment,  her  fondness  and  incessant  care, 
made  these  children  feel  that  they  had  now  a  mother  as 
good,  as  tender,  as  the  one  they  had  lost.  Her  father's 
financial  affairs,  as  he  had  left  them,  were  in  such  good 
condition  that  there  was  no  reason  for  any  anxiety  on 
that  account.  Thus  having  entered  upon  her  new  role  of 
a  mother,  Miss  Virginia  gradually  forgot  all  about  the 
world,  for  her  own  home  became  her  whole  world.  She 
had  many  ardent  admirers  amongst  the  golden  youth, 
who,  with  an  unmistakable  assurance  presented  an  allur 
ing  future  to  the  young  girl;  but  lo,  Miss  Virginia  was 
far  from  considering  any  such  change  in  her  life.  She 
had  now  an  unalterable  aim  she  wished  to  live  for.  She 
had  to  perform  her  duty  which  she  assumed  on  the  day 
she  lost  her  mother.  From  time  to  time  she  thought 
she  saw  her  mother  looking  at  her  from  the  heavens 
above,  saying  to  her;  "Virginia,  dear  child,  remember 
your  promise;  take  care  of  my  little  darling  Corinne;  do 
not  abandon  my  boys."  To  this  she  answered  promptly 
with  all  her  heart  and  soul,  "No,  sweet  mother,  I  will  not 
leave  these  children,  for  anything  in  the  world ;  for  any 
treasures,  for  any  joys.  I  shall  fulfill  my  promise  to  you 
faithfully.  I  have  taken  your  place  and  will  perform  my 
sacred  duty  with  all  the  powers  of  my  entity."  Every 
time  she  renewed  this  promise  to  her  mother,  she  felt 
happier,  and  as  though  a  new  life  reanimated  her  whole 
being.  When  she  needed  the  advice  of  an  older  person, 


79 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


she  turned  to  her  aunt,  and  this  was  a  great  help  to  her. 
"What  a  joy  to  watch  and  observe  day  after  day,  this 
little  angel,  this  little  Corinne,  progressing  so  nicely ! 
What  a  satisfaction  to  follow  Camille,  this  little  lover  of 
science  and  its  wonders!  What  a  delight  and  comfort 
to  note  the  splendid  growth  of  Charley!  A  few  more 
years  and  he  will  be  a  man,  a  big  man.  Then  he  will 
take  the  place  of  his  father,  of  our  father,  and  will  take 
care  of  all  of  us."  These  were  the  most  delightful 
thoughts  that  constantly  occupied  Miss  Virginia's  mind. 
Four  years  elapsed  in  this  revery  of  the  future.  But, 
alas,  another  terrible  blow  was  destined  to  shatter  the 
peaceful  life  of  this  now  cheerful  girl. 

In  the  splendidly  furnished  parlor  there  was  an  ex 
cellent  life  size  picture  of  Mr.  Gladston  hanging  on  the 
wall.  This  crayon  picture  was  made  in  London,  after 
his  first  trip  to  the  orient.  One  day  Miss  Virginia,  look 
ing  at  that  picture  while  the  rest  of  the  family  were  pres 
ent,  sighed  deeply  and  said  to  her  aunt : 

"What  a  pity  we  have  not  a  similar  picture  of  my 
mother.  How  is  it,  auntie,  that  she  never  had  her  pic 
ture  made?" 

"Well,  my  child,"  answered  Mrs.  Pratt,  "your  mother 
never  liked  her  own  picture  taken.  This  picture  of  your 
father  was  made  expressly  to  meet  her  wishes.  Rut 
when  your  father  insisted  on  having  her  picture  taken, 
she  absolutely  refused." 

"But,  auntie,"  interrupted  Miss  Virginia,  "is  it  possible 
that  there  is  no  picture  of  my  mother  at  all?  It  might 
have  been  taken  while  she  was  with  other  people  on  some 
public  occasion.  Don't  you  remember  anything  of  the 
sort?" 


80 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


"No,  child ;  I  do  not  remember  anything  of  the  kind," 
answered  Mrs.  Pratt,  "but  I  do  remember  an  incident 
when  her  picture  was  taken  with  your  father.  One  day 
they  went  to  Santa  Monica;  that  was  before  Corinne 
was  born.  They  had  gone  into  a  tent  on  the  sea  shore, 
where  they  were  making  tin-types;  and  as  though  for 
fun,  your  father  made  her  stand  with  him,  and  a  tin 
type  was  taken.  When  they  came  home,  she  showed  it 
to  me." 

"And  what  became  of  that  tin-type?"  Miss  Virginia 
interrupted  again  anxiously.  "Tell  me,  please,  what  be 
came  of  it?  If  I  can  find  it  I  will  have  it  enlarged  and 
something  made  of  it." 

"Now,  really,  I  do  not  know  what  became  of  that 
tin-type,"  said  Mrs.  Pratt,  somewhat  hesitatingly.  "Look 
amongst  the  papers  your  mother  had  in  her  drawer ;  per 
haps  you  will  find  it  there." 

This  was  enough  to  set  Miss  Virginia  at  work.  She 
immediately  went  to  her  mother's  room,  which  had  been 
unoccupied  since  her  death.  This  room  was  for  her  a 
sanctuary  where  the  dearest  remembrances  of  the  past 
were  centered.  Everything  was  left  in  its  place  the  same 
as  it  was  during  the  lifetime  of  her  mother.  She  opened 
the  drawers  where  her  mother  used  to  keep  things  she  did 
not  wish  to  see  in  the  hands  of  any  of  the  family.  She 
looked  over  all  the  papers  carefully,  and  could  not  find 
the  picture  she  was  in  search  of.  She  reported  this  to 
her  aunt  and  asked  her  to  see  whether  she,  her  aunt,  could 
not  find  it  somewhere  amongst  her  papers. 

The  day  passed  quietly,  but  Miss  Virginia  had  no 
peace.  This  thought  that  her  mother's  picture,  even 
though  on  a  tin-type,  could  be  found  in  the  house,  pur- 


81 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


sued  her  all  day  long.  Finally  the  evening  came  and 
when  the  children  were  gone  to  their  respective  beds  and 
her  aunt  retired,  Miss  Virginia  entered  her  mother's 
room  to  make  another  effort  in  search  of  the  picture. 
After  having  ransacked  all  hiding  places  with  no  success, 
she  opened  once  more  a  drawer  in  a  mahogany  dresser, 
took  a  mass  of  papers  out  of  it  and  spread  them  out  on 
the  table  standing  near  by.  She  had  examined  these 
papers  before  and  great  was  her  surprise  when  she  found 
a  bunch  of  letters  put  together  and  tied  with  a  red  rib 
bon.  This  was  something  new  to  her.  She  untied  the 
ribbon,  and  taking  each  letter  separately,  examined  its 
contents.  Singularly  enough  these  letters  were  kept  in 
their  envelopes  just  as  they  had  been  received,  as  though 
to  tell  the  story  of  their  peregrinations.  They  were  let 
ters  her  father  had  written  to  her  mother,  and  also  some 
of  the  letters  her  mother  had  written  to  her  father  while 
he  was  traveling  in  foreign  countries.  Looking  over 
them,  she  momentarily  forgot  that  she  was  searching 
for  her  mother's  picture,  and  began  reading  with  that 
filial  affection  which  is  experienced  only  by  those  who 
love  their  parents.  O,  how  many  lofty  and  dignified 
sentiments  these  letters  contained!  Here  she  began  to 
understand  the  tender  relations  that  existed  between  her 
parents.  Then  she  recollected  that  they  were  no  more. 
"No  more? — oh  no!"  some  unknown  inner  consciousness 
protested.  "That  cannot  be  so.  The  powerful  intelli 
gence  which  produced  so  many  lofty  feelings,  expressed 
in  such  a  manner  as  contained  in  these  writings,  could 
it  die,  perish,  be  annihilated,  leaving  no  trace,  no  shadow 
of  its  entity?  Can  this  be  possible,  No!  a  thousand 
times  no!  The  soul  must  be  more  powerful  than  the 


82 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


power  of  destruction.  They  live;  they  are  present  here; 
but  oh,  why,  why  can  I  not  see  them  ?  Why  can  I  not  con 
verse  with  them?"  Then  she  proceeded  again  with  the 
perusal  of  the  letters.  She  read  and  reread  many  of 
them  and  piously  put  them  back  in  their  envelopes  as  a 
precious  relic  to  be  preserved  in  remembrance  of  those 
departed.  Then  she  took  the  next  letter,  opened  it,  and 
began  to  read  in  the  same  devotional  way  as  she 
did  the  others.  On  a  sudden  she  felt  a  terrible  shock. 
She  opened  her  eyes  widely,  and  read  once  more  the 
lines  she  had  been  reading.  She  looked  carefully  at 
the  envelope  and  observed  the  date.  It  was  her 
father's  handwriting  without  any  doubt.  It  was  dated 
in  London — but  what  does  that  mean? — and  again 
she  read  the  lines,  now  slowly  word  by  word; 
—imagine  my  surprise" — her  father  was  writing  to 
her  mother — "when  the  other  day  unexpectedly  I  met 
Prof.  Norton  in  the  British  Museum  arranging  the  new 
tablets  that  recently  had  come  from  the  orient,  and  do 
you  know  what  were  his  first  words  to  me  ?  The  moment 
he  saw  me  he  said  ;  'How  is  your  adopted  daughter'— 
Here,  her  hands  holding  the  sinister  missive  dropped 
heavily  on  the  table.  "What?  Adopted  daughter!" — 
she  repeated  time  and  again.  "Who  is  this  adopted 
daughter  of  my  father  ?  What  does  that  mean  ?  Adopted 
daughter!"  she  repeated,  and  her  tears  came  like  a 
torrent.  "Is  that  I?  Is  that  adopted  daughter  myself?" 
Saying  this,  and  acting  under  the  powerful  pressure  of 
momentary  impulse,  she  ran  to  her  aunt's  room  to  ask 
the  meaning  of  these  words.  She  traversed  the  hall 
quickly,  and  reached  the  door.  She  put  her  hand  on  the 
handle,  and  in  a  second  she  would  have  been  in  her  aunt's 


83 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


presence  but  suddenly  she  stopped,  as  though  obeying 
the  command  of  an  invisible  force.  After  a  second's  re 
flection  she  turned  back  to  her  mother's  room,  and  throw 
ing  herself  on  the  chair,  gave  way  to  her  tears.  She  re 
mained  in  this  condition  for  some  time ;  but  after  awhile, 
she  tried  to  calm  and  compose  herself,  and  finally,  she 
began  to  think  and  ask  herself,  why  had  she  been  cry 
ing?  Was  there  any  reason  for  this  sort  of  despair? 
Now  a  calm  reasoning  process  got  hold  of  her  brain. 
"Let  me  examine  this  letter  again,"  she  thought,  looking 
critically  at  the  paper  in  her  hand.  "This  letter  has  been 
dated  in  London.  Yes,  this  was  the  year  when  papa 
went  to  Europe  alone.  It  was  his  first  trip  after  my 
birth.  Yes,  the  handwriting  is  that  of  my  father;  thert 
is  not  the  slightest  doubt  about  it.  Now,  who  is  this 
Prof.  Norton?  This  is  the  gentleman  connected  with 
the  Archaeological  Society  of  London,  in  whose  com 
pany  my  parents  traveled  to  the  East  where  I  was  born; 
and  this  man,  who  knew  my  parents  before  and  after 
my  birth,  speaks  of  an  adopted  daughter  of  my  father. 
Then,  he  knew  that  my  father  had  an  adopted  daughter, 
a  child  of  unknown  parents,  a  foundling — oh,  terrible, 
terrible  to  think  of  it!  If  my  father  had  a  daughter  at 
that  time  it  was  myself;  there  is  no  doubt  about  this  fact. 
Therefore  that  adopted  daughter  was  no  one  else  but  I. 
Then  I  am  not  the  child  of  my  parents?  Oh  dear,  dear 
mother —  '  she  burst  into  bitter  tears  again  and  fell 
insensible  on  the  floor. 

It  was  late  in  the  night  when  Miss  Virginia  came  to 
herself.  She  looked  around  as  though  to  grasp  the  situ 
ation,  and  not  wishing  to  betray  herself,  she  gathered 
the  mass  of  papers  on  the  table  and  put  them  back  in 


84 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


their  original  place.  Then  she  took  the  bunch  of  letters 
she  found  tied  together  to  her  room  and  put  it  in  a  small 
oaken  box  of  her  own,  locked  it  and  hid  the  key  in  a  sec 
ret  drawer  of  her  desk.  Miss  Virginia's  room  was  very 
large.  Besides  her  bed,  there  was  another  of  smaller 
size,  on  which  Corinne  slept.  After  she  had  disposed  of 
the  letters,  she  approached  the  bed  of  her  sister,  looked 
at  her  tenderly,  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  retired. 

Useless  to  say  that  she  spent  a  sleepless  night. 

Next  morning  Miss  Virginia  had  a  terrible  headache 
and  felt  very  much  exhausted.  She  was  forced  to  stay 
in  her  bed  all  that  day.  On  the  early  morning  when 
Corinne  arose  and  found  her  sister  seemingly  asleep, 
which  was  a  very  unusual  thing  for  her  to  see,  for  Miss 
Virginia  was  an  early  riser,  she  went  quietly  to  her  aunt 
and  said  that  Virginia  must  be  ill  for  she  was  still  in  bed. 
Immediately  Mrs.  Pratt  came  to  see  her.  Miss  Virginia, 
who  was  awakened  from  a  momentary  slumber  by  the 
noise  caused  by  Corinne,  when  she  saw  her  aunt,  ex 
plained  to  her,  that  she  had  passed  a  very  bad  night,  and 
now  her  headache  made  her  unable  to  get  up.  Hearing 
this  Mrs.  Pratt  advised  her  to  stay  in  bed  and  rest.  When 
Mrs.  Pratt  was  gone,  Miss  Virginia  began  to  review  the 
happenings  of  the  night  before.  She  felt  like  crying 
again,  but  for  fear  she  would  betray  herself,  she  kept 
quiet  and  started  to  reason.  "It  was  a  good  thing,"  she 
thought,  "I  did  not  go  to  my  aunt  last  night.  After  all, 
I  may  be  altogether  mistaken,"  she  went  on  thinking.  "It 
is  true  this  statement  of  my  father's  having  an  adopted 
daughter,  I  read  in  his  own  handwriting,  but  he  wrote 
this  as  a  sentence  of  Prof.  Norton  and  not  his  own.  This 
may  be  a  reference  to  something  else,  or  simply  a  joke. 


85 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Besides,  before  he  wrote  down  the  sentence  of  Prof.  Nor 
ton,  he  expressed  himself  as  being  surprised ;  for  he  start 
ed  by  saying:  'Imagine  my  surprise.' —  This  might  be 
construed  as  relating  to  the  unexpected  meeting  of  that 
gentleman,  but  it  might  as  well  be  in  relation  to  the  sen 
tence  in  question.  At  any  rate,  it  could  not  mean  that 
my  father  really  had  an  adopted  daughter,  because  he 
had  none;  for  suppose  if  I  were  that  adopted  child,  would 
not  people  know  something  about  it?  Besides,  would 
not  my  own  parents  betray  the  fact  in  some  way  or 
other?  Would  not  they  naturally  see  and  mark  the  dif 
ference  between  the  rest  of  the  chldren  and  me?  No,  it 
is  simply  absurd  to  admit  for  a  moment  that  I  am  not  a 
child  of  my  dear  papa,  and  my  sweet  mamma.  In  regard 
to  my  aunt,"  Miss  Virginia  continued  her  reasoning, 
"oh,  what  a  goose  would  I  have  made  of  myself,  hadi  I 
gone  and  asked  her,  whether  I  was  not  the  child  of  my 
parents!  Besides,  if  actually  I  am  not — which  is  not  so— 
she  never  betrayed  it  in  any  way  all  of  these  years  she 
has  been  living  with  us,  and  would  she  tell  me  the  truth 
now?  No,  she  certainly  would  have  to  invent  some  con 
venient  answer  to  satisfy  me,  for  she  would  never  tell 
me  the  truth.  This  being  the  case,  of  what  use  would  it 
be,  had  I  asked  her  such  a  question?  No.  This  way 
does  not  lead  to  any  solution,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  that 
I  do  not  know  of  any  other  which  might  furnish  the  de 
sired  explanation.  In  the  meantime  it  is  best  to  keep 
this  mystery  to  myself  alone  and  see  if  I  can  not  dis 
cover  something  which  might  lead  to  a  final  solution. 
Until  then,  this  shall  remain  my  own  secret."  This  rea 
soning  calmed  Miss  Virginia  to  a  certain  degree,  but  her 
peace  had  gone. 


86 


GLADSTON    FAMILY. 


After  this  awful  experience,  Miss  Virginia  became 
very  sad,  taciturn  and  betrayed  an  inclination  for  a  se 
cluded  life.  She  never  went  to  any  places  of  amusement. 
She  lost  interest  in  all  things  foreign  to  her  domestic 
life.  She  loved  dearly  her  little  sister  Corinne,  and  this 
was  a  great  consolation  to  her.  She  took  great  interest 
in  the  welfare  of  the  two  boys,  and  she  was  rewarded  by 
their  attachment  and  love.  Upon  entering  into  this  new 
phase  of  her  sad  life,  she  invented  all  sorts  of  occupa 
tions  in  her  home  life,  in  order  to  silence  her  sufferings 
and  her  longings  for  the  unfolclment  of  this  unexplain- 
able  mystery.  Two  years  passed  since  the  discovery  of 
that  fatal  letter  and  Miss  Virginia  never  spoke  of  it  to 
any  one.  During  this  time  she  made  researches  in  a  very 
guarded  way,  especially  while  conversing  with  her  aunt 
about  family  affairs,  but  all  was  in  vain.  From  all  that 
she  could  learn  up  to  this  time,  there  was  no  reason  what 
ever  for  the  corroboration  of  her  surmise  that  the  state 
ment  of  the  fatal  letter  concerned  herself.  Yet  she  could 
not  dismiss  the  thought,  which  tortured  her  constantly. 
She  tried  to  forget  it,  but  every  time  she  saw  the  box 
containing  those  letters  her  sufferings  increased.  She  re 
belled  stoutly  against  all  thoughts  suggesting  destruc 
tion  of  that  letter.  That  would  not  do,  for  even  if  it 
were  destroyed,  the  remembrance  of  its  contents  would 
still  remain. 

Besides,  in  connection  with  what  she  knew,  Miss  Vir 
ginia  recollected  that  her  aunt,  who  never  had  any  secret 
from  her,  had  a  drawer  in  her  dresser  which  she  always 
kept  locked,  and  never  allowed  Miss  Virginia  to  know 
its  contents.  This  little  observation  which  had  no  sig 
nificance  whatever  before,  now  became  for  her  a  very  im- 


87 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


portant  matter.  What  was  in  that  drawer  that  her  aunt 
kept  under  her  watchful  eyes?  Many  times  Miss  Vir 
ginia  searched  the  room  looking  for  some  things  that 
were  missed  by  her  aunt.  She  was  permitted  to  look 
into  the  most  hidden  corners,  but  every  time  she  tried  to 
open  that  one  particular  drawer,  she  was  told  not  to  do 
it.  On  one  occasion  Miss  Virginia  asked  her  aunt,  what 
was  in  that  drawer  she  always  kept  locked?  To  which 
Mrs.  Pratt  replied,  that  there  were  some  papers  strictly 
of  a  personal  nature,  which  she  did  not  wish  to  have 
examined.  This  answer  did  not  satisfy  Miss  Virginia, 
for  she  knew  the  life  of  her  aunt  thoroughly  well  in  all 
details.  Her  aunt  spoke  of  herself  and  things  concern 
ing  her  life  very  freely  to  Miss  Virginia.  Their  rela 
tions  being  almost  those  of  a  mother  and  a  daughter, 
there  was  no  place  for  any  secrecy,  especially  when  this 
concerned  some  papers.  No  matter  how  important,  they 
could  not  be  more  so  than  the  things  she  knew  regarding 
her  aunt's  life,  and  this  greatly  mystified  her. 

Following  the  established  custom  of  Mrs.  Gladston, 
they  kept  an  open  house.  Mrs.  Pratt  noticing  the  un 
usual  change  in  her  niece,  and  not  suspecting  the  real 
cause  of  it,  in  order  to  distract  her  had  gathered  a  few 
congenial  friends  who  regularly  came  to  spend  an  even 
ing  with  them  once  a  week.  This  was  known  as  Mrs. 
Pratt's  Tuesday.  At  these  gatherings  they  discussed 
problems  of  vital  importance.  In  the  selection  Mrs. 
Pratt  had  made  were  a  few  ladies  and  several  gentle 
men,  all  of  them  of  excellent  education  and  lovers  of 
learning.  These  aroused  Miss  Virginia's  interest,  and 
she  became  more  lively,  devoting  much  of  her  time  to 
special  studies  in  order  to  equip  herself  with  sufficient 


88 


GLADSTON     FAMILY. 


knowledge  which  would  enable  her  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  discussions  on  matters  brought  before  such  gather 
ings. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  we  found  Miss  Virginia 
in  her  room,  once  more  tempted  to  inspect  the  letter  that 
caused  her  such  intense  suffering.  That  was  due  to  her 
morning  visit  to  the  Ebell  Club  House.  While  she  was 
contemplating  the  admirable  picture  of  Rafael,  she  was 
much  impressed  with  the  subject.  It  represented  ma 
ternity.  There  was  a  mother,  pure  and  holy.  She  held 
the  infant,  her  child,  her  only  offspring,  with  that  ma 
ternal  love  which  belongs  only  to  pure  mothers.  How 
pretty,  how  elevating  was  this  sentiment !  "Oh,  yes,  ma 
ternity  is  divine!"  she  exclaimed.  While  so  contemplat 
ing,  naturally  she  thought  of  her  own  mother.  "She  also 
was  so  good,  so  unselfish  and  so  unexhausted  in  her 
motherly  love."  Then  suddenly  came  to  her  mind  that 
ominous  letter  which  told  her  that  the  mother  she  had 
been  thinking  of  was  not  her  own.  This  disturbed  her 
immensely,  and  when  she  came  home,  the  little  incident 
that  followed  made  her  forget  about  her  sorrow  momen 
tarily;  but  when  she  found  herself  alone  in  her  own  room 
and  she  saw  the  box  containing  that  letter,  she  wanted 
to  examine  it  again  in  hope  that  this  time  she  might  per 
haps  discover  something  establishing  its  unreliability. 
We  saw  her  taking  the  pack  of  her  father's  letters,  but 
she  was  not  able  to  gaze  upon  its  contents  for  the  fear 
that  she  might  instead  of  solving  the  mystery,  be  more 
strongly  convinced  of  its  truth,  and  this  reasoning  made 
her  conclude  not  to  open  it.  "Better  suffer  in  doubt  than 
to  face  the  bitter  truth,"  she  thought.  Her  suffering  was 
greater,  owing  to  the  fact  that  she  had  determined  to 


39 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


keep  this  mysterious  discovery  to  herself.  But,  after  all, 
there  was  some  one  who  comforted  her  very  much.  She 
thought  she  heard  some  distant  voice,  coming  as  it  were 
from  superior  regions  and  telling  her:  "Do  not  despair, 
child ;  wait ;  have  patience.  The  solution  of  the  mystery 
will  come  in  due  time.  You  will  know  it  soon ;  very 
soon.  Be  calm;  all  will  be  well." 

"This  consoling  voice  surely  must  be  of  my  dear 
mother,"  thought  Miss  Virginia,  and  she  resolved  to  wait 
patiently  and  calmly  to  learn  the  truth. 


90 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


In  a  brilliantly  illuminated  room  Count  Morat  sat 
alone  smoking  his  long  Turkish  pipe.  The  comfortable 
house  which  the  Count  had  occupied  immediately  after 
his  arrival  in  Los  Angeles  was  located  on  Alvarado 
street.  He  had  passed  a  very  busy  day,  having  made 
several  visits  in  town.  His  first,  and  the  most  important 
call,  however,  was  that  on  Mrs.  Milton,  which  he  consid 
ered  a  particularly  pleasing  function,  owing  to  his  friend 
ly  relations  with  her  son.  While  there  he  met  and  be 
came  acquainted  with  Rev.  B.  Y.  Darling,  D.  D.,  for 
merly  a  colleague  of  Mr.  Milton  and  now  Rector  of  a 
fashionable  Episcopalian  church  in  the  city,  who  happen 
ed  to  be  there  at  the  time.  Devoid  of  that  peculiar  stiff 
ness  and  uncalled  for  haughtiness  which  frequently  is 
displayed  by  some  men  in  clerical  garb,  Dr.  Darling  im 
pressed  the  Count  with  his  simplicity  and  modesty.  Be 
sides,  being  well  versed  in  matters  pertaining  to  his 
church  as  well  as  those  of  general  interest,  he  was  quite 
a  brilliant  conversationalist,  and  as  such  naturally  at 
tracted  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  These  qual 
ities  of  Dr.  Darling  were  so  pleasing  to  the  Count  that 


91 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


he  decided  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance,  and  with  this 
end  in  view,  he  invited  him  to  his  first  dinner  to  be  given 
to  Mr.  Milton  and  some  of  his  friends.  The  reverend  gen 
tleman  accepted  the  extended  invitation,  promising  to  be 
there  with  Mr.  Milton.  Thus  ending  his  day,  the  Count 
was  now  expecting  his  invited  friends  to  dinner,  a  bach 
elor's  dinner,  as  he  called  it,  which  of  course  meant  with 
no  ladies  present.  But,  notwithstanding  the  great  vari 
ety  of  impressions  obtained  during  the  day,  the  Count 
was  in  a  peculiarly  meditative  mood.  He  began  to  re 
view  the  recent  happenings,  trying  to  find  the  connecting 
link  of  the  events.  Omitting  the  causes  which  took  him 
to  Lake  Tahoe,  he  particularly  dwelt  upon  the  time  he 
had  spent  there.  "What  a  charming  country,"  he 
thought.  "But  what  an  unexpected  incident!  To  think 
that  after  years  of  separation,  I  would  meet  Mr.  Milton 
on  the  shores  of  that  Lake,  was  something  that  never 
occurred  to  me.  In  fact,  I  never  expected  to  meet  him 
again;  yet,  it  seems  as  though  the  purpose  of  my  going 
to  that  place  was  to  meet  this  friend  of  an  old  date ;  if  so, 
what  connection  can  this  event  have  with  the  main  ob 
ject  of  my  wanderings?  Oh,  these  wanderings!  What 
brought  me  to  this  city,  whose  existence  dates  only  yes 
terday,  which  has  no  history,  no  past  to  astonish  a 
stranger?  What  was  it  that  caused  the  uncontrollable 
desire  to  come  to  Los  Angeles?  After  all,  what  consti 
tutes  the  attraction?"  He  could  not  answer.  But  he 
felt  that  this  was  the  place  where  the  magnet  which  at 
tracted  him  was  located.  This  was  his  North  Pole.  Had 
he  any  corroborative  indications  of  this?  None  what 
ever.  Yet,  he  felt  that  this  was  the  place  which  he  had 
been  seeking  for  many  a  year.  "Yes,"  he  thought,  look- 


92 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


ing  at  the  aromatic  smoke  before  him  forming  fantastic 
rings  and  dispersing  in  clouds,  "after  years  of  travels 
and  unsuccessful  researches,  this  place  seems  to  be  my 
Mecca.  Is  it  here  that  I  will  solve  my  problem?  Is  it 
here  that  I  will  find  what  I  have  been  looking  for  all 
these  years  in  vain?  To  answer  these  questions  seemed 
to  him  at  least  premature,  and  finally  he  concluded  by 
saying :  "Let  the  events  tell  their  own  story."  Singularly 
enough,  in  connection  with  the  above  thoughts  there  was 
closely  interwoven  a  sympathetic  individuality,  and  this 
individuality  was  that  of  Mr.  Milton.  Whenever  these 
thoughts  in  connection  with  the  object  of  his  wanderings 
came  to  him,  he  invariably  found  Mr.  Milton  as  though 
a  part  of  them,  and  naturally  he  asked  himself  what  that 
young  man  had  to  do  with  the  problem  of  his  life?  Why 
his  personality  appeared  so  persistently  in  his  visions 
while  contemplating  those  subjects?  Following  his  sys 
tem  of  thinking,  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  Mr.  Milton 
had  an  important  part  in  the  matter ;  that  coming  in  con 
tact  with  him  in  Paris,  and  again  meeting  him  here,  were 
not  mere  accidents;  for  there  was  no  such  a  thing  as  an 
accident.  Accident  or  chance  was  a  word  which  meant 
an  event  the  causes  of  which  were  not  known.  Never 
theless  the  cause  was  there,  for  there  is  no  effect  without 
the  cause,  and  as  long  as  the  cause  was  not  known  the 
event  was  called  by  the  majority  of  people,  an  accident, 
a  chance.  These  words  had  a  meaning  for  those  people 
who  were  not  familiar  with  the  great  law  of  cause  and 
effect,  but  for  him  they  were  absolutely  meaningless.  He 
knew  too  well  the  workings  of  the  law  so  prominently 
governing  the  Universe,  to  admit  that  there  could  be 
such  a  thing  as  an  "accident."  The  only  thing  that 


93 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


troubled  him  was  his  inability  to  connect  Mr.  Milton  with 
the  object  he  was  pursuing.  But  then,  he  thought,  if  he 
knew  that  connecting  link,  he  would  not  have  a  mystery 
on  hand  as  he  did,  and  finally  concluded  that  there  was 
no  use  trying  to  anticipate  events  which  would  take  place 
in  due  time.  Thus  contemplating,  he  hardly  noticed  his 
faithful  Yonan  entering  the  room,  announcing  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Milton.  Hearing  this  the  Count  arose,  directing 
his  steps  towards  the  door  to  meet  his  guests. 

Mr.  Milton  entered  the  parlor  with  a  radiant  face,  fol 
lowed  by  his  friend  Dr.  Darling. 

"Ah,  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Count  Morat,  extending  his 
hands  to  Mr.  Milton  and  his  companion. 

"I  thought  we  were  late,  but  I  see  we  have  the  privi- 
ledge  of  being  the  first  to  shake  your  hand,  dear  Count," 
said  Mr.  Milton  taking  a  chair. 

"As  usual,  my  dear  Mr.  Milton,  you  are  always  very 
punctual,  a  habit  quite  indispensable  for  the  success  of  a 
lawyer,"  replied  the  Count. 

"Better  say  for  a  successful  lawyer,"  remarked  Dr. 
Darling,  taking  the  seat  indicated  by  the  Count. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  are  quite  correct,"  said  the  Count. 
"The  term  is  the  most  appropriate  when  applied  to  our 
mutual  friend  Mr.  Milton,  for  he  certainly  has  attained 
that  degree  wonderfully  well." 

In  the  meantime,  the  Chaldean  stood  there  with  an  in 
quiring  gaze.  The  Count  understood  his  servant  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Milton  said : 

"Yonan  wishes  to  know  whether  he  shall  serve  yon  a 
pipe,  but  I  would  not  advise  you  to  have  one  just  now, 
for  shortly  we  will  dine.  Instead,  I  would  propose  an 


94 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


appetizer  such  as  Yonan  knows  how  to  prepare;  what  do 
you  say?" 

"I  think  it  is  a  splendid  idea,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  whose 
attention  was  attracted  by  the  noise  on  the  street.  "If  I 
am  not  mistaken,"  he  added,  "the  noise  of  the  automobile 
I  hear  announces  the  arrival  of  our  friends." 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  his  words,  when  the  door 
opened  and  Dr.  Ihringier  with  Mr.  Irving  entered  the 
parlor. 

"My  respects,"  said  the  Doctor,  shaking  hands  with 
the  Count. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen.  Here  we  are  again  with 
our  crowd,"  shouted  Mr.  Irving  with  his  metallic  voice, 
accompanied  with  a  good  natured  smile,  and  trying  to 
shake  hands  at  once  with  everybody  in  the  room. 

"Gentlemen,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  in  my  new 
dwelling,"  said  the  Count,  with  an  expression  of  genuine 
sincerity.  Then  turning  to  Dr.  Ihringier,  he  remarked: 

"I  hope  there  is  no  need  of  introduction.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  Dr.  Darling?" 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier.  "We  know  each 
other  very  well  indeed,  for  we  meet  quite  frequently  to 
discuss  matters  of  great  importance." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  joined  Mr.  Irving.  "We  build,  and  re 
build  the  universe  time  and  again.  But  the  trouble  is, 
whenever  one  gets  ready  to  put  a  last  finishing  touch  on 
his  structure,  the  other  begins  to  kick  and  all  goes  topsy 
turvy." 

Hearing  this  remark,  Dr.  Darling  began  to  laugh 
heartily  and  turning  to  Mr.  Irving  said : 

"You  must  be  careful  in  the  choice  of  your  words,  for 
you  might  give  a  wrong  impression  to  our  host.  He 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


might  come  to  the  conclusion  that  we  are  a  lot  of  mal 
contents  using  the  art  of  kicking  as  a  last  resort." 

"No  danger,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "The  Count  knows 
Mr.  Irving  quite  well  and  by  this  time  I  hope  he  has 
familiarized  himself  with  his  metaphorical  vocabulary. 
Besides,  he  did  not  say  anything  but  truth.  Whenever 
Dr.  Ihringier  comes  out  with  his  structure,  Dr.  Darling 
goes  after  him  with  his  old-fashioned  shovel  and  tries  to 
upset  the  poor  man's  labors." 

"And  what  about  you?"  inquired  Mr.  Irving,  turning 
to  Mr.  Milton;  "you  never  can  agree  with  either  of  the 
two.  I  tell  you  it  is  a  pity.  But  what  is  the  use  ?  These 
three  men  cannot  agree,  because  one  is  a  doctor  of  'divin 
ity/  the  other  a  doctor  of  'anatomy'  or  'materia  meclica/ 
and  Mr.  Milton  is  the  doctor  of  'habeas  corpus/  and  I, 
my  poor  I  have  to  suffer  in  keeping  them  together." 

"It  is  because  you  are  all  materialists,"  said  Dr.  Dar 
ling,  reproachfully.  "With  such  an  element  as  that,  one 
cannot  go  very  far." 

"You  are  perfectly  right,"  said  Count  Morat,  answer 
ing  Dr.  Darling.  "With  materialists  you  cannot  go 
very  far  from  the  surface  of  the  earth.  But  here  comes 
Yonan,  I  suppose,  to  give  us  a  new  suggestion." 

At  this  moment  the  Chaldean  appeared  with  a  tray  on 
which  there  were  five  small  glasses  filled  with  a  liquid 
of  a  rosy  color. 

"This  is,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Count,  turning  to  his 
guests,  "the  scientific  appetizer  prepared  according  to  an 
old  recipe  the  origin  of  which  is  attributed  to  Chaldeans, 
and  confided  to  me  by  my  good  man,  Yonan.  I  would 
advise  not  to  advance  an  opinion  until  you  have  ascer 
tained  its  effect." 


96 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


"The  advice  is  good,"  said  Mr.  Irving-,  taking  one  of 
the  glasses  served  by  the  Chaldean.  "I  ordinarily  advo 
cate  the  same  principle,  not  to  talk  unless  you  know  what 
you  are  talking  about." 

"A  sound  and  judicious  principle  but  unfortunately 
not  very  popular,"  remarked  Dr.  Ihringier,  putting  his 
empty  glass  on  the  tray. 

"Especially  with  the  monistic  philosophers,"  said  Dr. 
Darling,  looking  somewhat  suspiciously  at  the  contents 
of  the  glass  in  his  hand. 

"Ha,  ha,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Milton,  laughing  merrily,  "I 
see  now  what  ails  him.  It  is  the  monistic  philosophy 
that  he  cannot  swallow." 

"There  is  no  question  of  swallowing  anything,"  re 
plied  Dr.  Darling,  laconically.  "It  is  the  lack  of  logic  in 
the  professed  system  of  thinking  that  repels." 

"Yet  we  are  entirely  indebted  to  the  eminent  scientists 
adhering  to  monistic  views  for  all  that  we  know  so  far 
in  natural  sciences,"  said  Mr.  Milton. 

"Not  necessarily,"  answered  Dr.  Darling.  "There  are 
a  good  many  of  them  who  clearly  see  the  shallowness  of 
monistic  philosophy,  which  after  all  is  nothing  but  a 
strictly  materialistic  school.  It  teaches  that  there  is  noth 
ing  but  matter,  referring  all  phenomena  of  life  to  a  single 
ultimate  constituent  or  agent,  and  that  ultimate  agent,  un 
fortunately  is  nothing  but  matter.  They  call  it  Monism 
from  the  Greek  Monos,  which  means  single.  And  this 
wonderful  monism  is  in  opposition  to  dualism,  which  is 
the  only  and  the  most  reliable  system  of  teaching.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  be  an  eminent  scientist  to  know  that  we 
have  a  soul  and  a  good  one,  too." 

"That  sounds  pretty  well,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier.     "But 


97 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


here  is  where  the  trouble  comes.  When  you  profess  dual 
ism,  you  intend  to  state,  that  you  are  composed  of  a  body, 
and  of  a  soul,  which  is  presumably  something  altogether 
different  from  the  body.  We  know  that  you  have  an  ani 
mated  body,  a  body  that  produces  life;  but  how  do  you 
come  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  produced  life  does  not 
owe  its  origin  to  that  body,  and  furthermore,  that  it  is 
caused  by  that  which  you  term  a  soul  ?  That  is  the  ques 
tion.  In  order  to  answer  this,  you  have  to  specify  the 
reasons  for  the  statement  which  you  have  made  and 
show  the  sources  on  which  you  base  your  knowledge." 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  specifying,"  replied  Dr.  Dar 
ling.  "It  always  has  been  a  belief  amongst  men  and  that 
belief  came  to  us  from  time  immemorial,  in  fact,  from 
the  creation  of  the  world,  and  this  is  how  we  know  what 
we  profess  knowing." 

"Then  the  source  of  your  knowledge  of  the  existence 
of  a  soul,  such  as  the  dualistic  school  teaches,  is  based 
solely  on  belief,  is  that  it  ?"  asked  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"Well,  yes,"  answered  Dr.  Darling.  "In  matters  spir 
itual  we  cannot  apply  reasoning  the  way  we  do  in  things 
material.  We  have  to  believe." 

"We  have  to  believe,"  repeated  Dr.  Ihringier,  empha 
sizing  each  word.  "Good  advice  for  those  who  consider 
a  belief  as  a  sufficient  source  for  the  acquirement  of 
knowledge.  But  you  must  remember  that  we  are  living 
in  an  age  which  does  not  think,  nor  consider  belief  to  be 
knowledge.  You  may  say,  you  believe  you  have  a  soul, 
but  you  cannot  say  that  you  know  you  have  a  soul,  unless 
you  substantiate  your  assertion  by  a  better  knowledge  than 
that  which  comes  from  belief.  For,  if  we  were  to  base  our 
knowledge  upon  the  belief,  where  would  we  be,  with 


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A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


all  the  existing  amalgamated  superstitions  under  differ 
ent  names  and  forms?  A  mere  belief  cannot  and  does 
not  constitute  knowledge.  For  a  belief  is  based  upon 
somebody's  saying  so.  'On  dit'  is  no  argument.  But 
knowledge  requires  something  more  than  that." 

"Then,  pray,  how  can  you  acquire  that  knowledge  if 
you  would  not  believe  in  the  authority  of  those  who  im 
part  it?"  asked  Dr.  Darling. 

"Yes,  that  is  it;  how  can  you?"  joined  Mr.  Irving, 
gaily.  "Here  is  something  for  you  to  answer." 

"It  is  well  said,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier,  answering  the 
clergyman.  "But  before  I  would  believe  in  the  imparted 
statement,  I  would  have  to  satisfy  myself  in  regard  to 
the  authority  of  the  imparter.  It  is  quite  a  problem  to 
establish  a  proper  authority.  The  authority  which  is 
made  up  of  a  long  black,  red  or  white  robe,  culminated 
with  a  miter  or  a  crown,  is  not  authority  for  a  scientific 
ally  thinking  man,  even  if  such  an  one  is  emphatically 
stamped  by  the  ages.  An  authority  in  imparting  a  knowl 
edge  must  be  based  upon,  and  be  an  expression  of  an  em 
pirical  knowledge ;  that  is  to  say  a  knowledge  which  has 
been  acquired  by  experiences,  and  as  such  has  been  demon 
strated  and  is  demonstrable  at  any  time.  To  such  an 
authority  we  must  believe  and  bow  reverently,  simply  be 
cause  it  conveys  a  truth  accessible  to  our  verification. 
Hence  follows  a  simple  ruling  governing  our  choice  in 
authorities.  Any  authority  which  imparts  a  knowledge 
not  acquired  by  experiences  is  erroneous,  and  as  such  can 
not  be  acceptable  for  it  is  a  clear  case  of  the  blind  leading 
the  blind." 

"That  sounds  logical  when  applied  to  things  accessible 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


to  our  physical  senses,  but  it  cannot  be  applied  to  the 
spiritual  world,"  remarked  Dr.  Darling. 

"And  what  is  the  spiritual  world,  may  I  ask  you  ?"  in 
quired  Dr.  Ihringier. 

Here  Count  Morat  interrupted  the  conversation. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  dislike  very  much  to  inter 
rupt  the  immensely  interesting  discussion  you  have  start 
ed,  but  I  notice  my  Yonan  has  been  waiting  for  us  now 
for  some  time,  which  means  that  the  dinner  is  served.  Let 
us  go  to  the  dining  room  and  if  it  be  your  pleasure  we 
can  continue  our  discussion  there." 

"The  suggestion  is  just  in  time,"  said  Mr.  Irving. 
"But,  before  we  start  to  taste  some  more  scientific 
dainties,  I  wish  to  say  that  your  scientific  appetizer,  dear 
Count,  is  a  splendid  mixture.  Owing  to  its  wonderful 
effects  I  feel  now  that  I  am  nothing  but  a  delightful  sci 
entist.  With  our  friends  here,  the  two  doctors  and  one 
lawyer,  all  goes  lovely.  Indeed,  dear  Count,  your  magi 
cal  appetizer  is  splendid,  splendid!" 

The  Chaldean  opened  the  double  door  and  they  en 
tered  the  dining  room. 

"Dr.  Darling,"  said  the  Count,  standing  near  his  chair 
at  the  table,  "please  take  your  seat  opposite  mine;  Mr.  Ir 
ving  will  kindly  sit  at  my  left,  and  let  these  two  learned 
men  face  each  other." 

"That  is  right,"  shouted  Mr.  Irving,  joyously.  "Keep 
them  at  a  distance,  for  you  don't  know  what  may  happen 
during  the  dinner." 

The  arrangement  of  the  table,  the  service  of  the  Chal 
dean  in  his  long  oriental  silk  robes,  who  swiftly  but 
softly  moved  around  like  a  shadow  without  the  least 
noise,  the  exquisite  menu  with  its  various  wines,  were 


100 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


amazingly  perfect.  In  every  detail  there  was  the  mark 
of  an  exceedingly  refined  taste  and  highly  artistic  appear 
ance. 

As  the  dinner  progressed  and  the  guests  became  more 
animated,  the  genial  host  succeeded  in  keeping  their  at 
tention  exclusively  on  current  topics.  This  gave  a  good 
opportunity  to  the  self-appointed  toast  master,  Mr.  Ir 
ving,  who  made  the  glasses  circulate  quite  freely  with 
such  a  variety  of  flowery  remarks,  as  only  the  delicious 
California  grape  product  could  inspire.  Very  generous 
in  his  appreciation  of  good  liquids,  he  went  so  far  as  to 
state  that  had  Bacchus  ever  tasted  California  wines,  he 
certainly  would  never  have  had  any  desire  of  presiding 
at  the  magnificent  tables  of  Roman  Caesars.  "But,  O 
tempora,  O  mores !  how  few  are  those  who  know  what  a 
good  thing  is,  unless  they  have  made  this  vinum-vitae 
circulate  in  their  veins!"  said  he,  raising  his  filled  glass 
against  the  electric  light  standing  in  the  center  of  the 
table,  in  order  to  see  and  admire  the  color  of  its  contents. 

When  the  last  delicacies  were  consumed,  following  the 
suggestion  of  the  Count,  they  passed  into  the  parlor 
where,  seated  in  comfortable  chairs,  they  were  served 
with  an  exquisitely  made  Turkish  coffee  and  excellent 
cigars.  But  the  Count  and  Mr.  Milton  preferred  to  have 
a  Turkish  kalyon.  These  were  served  by  the  Chaldean 
with  all  the  customary  ceremonials  of  easterners,  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  Dr.  Darling. 

"This  oriental  service  of  long  pipes  is  quite  pictur 
esque,"  said  he  to  the  Count. 

"Yes,"  replied  Count  Morat,  "especially  when  this 
takes  place  in  America." 

"Before  you  go  any  farther  on  that  subject,"  remarked 


101 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Mr.  Milton,  "I  wish  to  remind  Dr.  Darling  that  the  ques 
tion  put  to  him  by  Dr.  Ihringier  remains  unanswered." 

"What  was  the  question?"  inquired  the  divine. 

"The  question  you  were  asked,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "was ; 
what  is  the  spiritual  world?  Was  not  that  it,  Dr.  Ihrin 
gier?" 

"Yes,  that  was  the  question  which  arose  from  what  Dr. 
Darling  said,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier.  "I  asked  that 
question  because  no  such  a  thing  as  a  spiritual  world  is 
known  to  science." 

"It  is  only  natural  that  monistic  philosophers  with 
their  empirical  knowledge  do  not  and  cannot  know  such 
a  thing  as  a  spiritual  world,"  replied  Dr.  Darling. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier.  "The  unknowable 
and  unthinkable  remains  unknown,  not  only  to  monistic 
philosophers,  but  also  to  the  rest  of  the  world  who  are 
consistent  with  what  they  already  know.  It  is  a  daring, 
and  in  the  meantime  utterly  useless  attempt  to  unveil 
things  which  human  intellect  cannot  comprehend.  But 
what  puzzles  me  the  most  is,  this  curious  desire  of  know 
ing  the  unknowable  while  the  knowable  remains  unex 
plored  by  them.  Forgetful  of  the  fact  that  our  only  real 
and  valuable  knowledge  is  a  knowledge  of  nature  itself, 
and  consists  of  presentations  which  correspond  to  exter 
nal  things,  they  jump  into  the  unknown  chaos  in  order  to 
create  something  more  suitable  to  their  fancy ;  and  this  is 
the  beginning  of  the  plays  into  metaphysics." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "but  there  is  a  little 
contradiction  in  what  you  said.  When  you  speak  of  an 
unknown  chaos,  your  admission  that  'they'  create  in  it 
something  suitable  to  their  fancy  makes  that  chaos  a 
knowable  thing.  For  you  certainly  know,  that  the  hu- 


102 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


man  mind  can  not  create  any  thing  in  its  most  fanciful 
imagination  without  having  some  conception  of  it.  You 
know  that  the  power  of  thinking  is  only  relative.  Can 
you  make  an  Indian  think  of  a  piano  if  he  has  not  seen 
one?  Could  you  think  of  an  umbrella  if  you  had  not  seen 
one?  It  naturally  follows  that  even  in  the  fanciful  plays 
into  metaphysics,  once  they  are  conceivable  to  human 
intellect,  they  are  not  things  unknowable." 

"But  they  are  unnatural,  and  as  such  they  do  not  ex 
ist,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier.  "You  can  conceive  a  horse 
with  wings  flying  in  the  air.  But  you  forget  that  it  is 
the  play  of  your  fancy  that  makes  such  a  thing,  which 
does  not  exist  in  reality.  You  have  a  conception  of  wings 
and  of  a  horse.  Your  fancy  puts  them  together  and  your 
horse  flies.  Does  it  follow  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
flying  horse?  That  is  what  happens  with  those  who  cre 
ate  things  suitable  to  their  fancy.  But  we  are  not  deal 
ing  with  things  of  that  nature.  In  defining  our  power 
of  knowledge,  we  must  remain  in  the  limited  area  of  reali 
ties.  Give  us  facts,  only  facts." 

"That  is  the  way  to  talk,"  said  Mr.  Irving,  dropping 
the  ashes  of  his  cigar  on  a  tray.  "Facts,  and  facts  only 
count  nowadays.  What  is  the  use  of  talking  about  the 
things  which  do  not  exist?  What  was  it  Abraham  Lin 
coln  said  ?  You  can  fool  some  people  for  some  time,  but 
you  can  not  fool  all  the  people  all  the  time.  That  is  it. 
But,  coming  to  the  point,  you  may  call  me  Denis  if  I  can 
grasp  what  you  were  talking  about.  Evidently  you  for 
get  that  everybody  is  not  a  learned  doctor.  So,  to  make 
your  instructive  discussion  clear  to  me,  won't  you  kindly 
state  the  main  issue?" 

"The  main  issue  is  this,"  said  Mr.  Milton,     "Doctor 


103 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Ihringier  is  a  strong  believer  in  monistic  philosophy, 
which  teaches  that  there  is  nothing  outside  of  matter.  In 
other  words,  a  man,  a  squirrel,  a  flower,  and  all  the  rest 
you  see,  is  the  product  of  matter.  The  moment  they 
cease  to  exist  in  their  given  form,  they  mark  the  end  of 
their  existence  as  such.  To  illustrate ;  when  you  die,  that 
will  be  your  end.  There  will  be  no  more  of  yourself. 
Now,  in  opposition  to  this,  Dr.  Darling  represents  the 
dualistic  school  which  teaches  dualism  in  all,  namely,  that 
there  is  a  God  who  created  and  maintains  the  earth  and 
all  on  it;  that  man  is  constituted  of  two  original  and  in 
dependent  elements,  of  body  and  of  spirit,  which  does 
not  die,  which  is  immortal,  so  that,  when  you  die,  that 
does  not  indicate  your  end.  You  lose  your  body,  but  your 
soul  continues  its  existence,  goes  to  heaven  or  to  hell  ac 
cording  to  the  merit  or  demerit  of  your  lived  life.  Now, 
then,  the  problem  is  to  show  which  is  the  nearest  to  the 
truth.  Do  you  now  see  the  issue?" 

"I  see  the  issue,"  said  Mr.  Irving.  "But  don't  you  think 
the  attempt  to  learn  the  truth  from  two  men,  each  firmly 
believing  in  his  own  theory,  is  rather  a  failure?" 

"Not  at  all,"  remarked  Dr.  Ihringier.  "I  am  willing 
to  accept  any  assertion  that  will  show  the  fallacy  of  sci 
ence.  You  must  remember  that  the  science  of  today  is 
not  what  it  was  a  hundred  years  ago.  While  we  are  not 
able  as  yet  to  say  what  an  atom  is,  what  the  law  of  attrac 
tion  and  gravitation  is,  what  electricity  is,  'in  se'  we 
know  quite  well  their  systematical  activities  and  the  pro 
duced  result.  Look  at  the  wonderful  progress  made  in 
Astronomy,  Chemistry,  Biology,  Geology,  in  fact,  every 
branch  of  science  has  made  such  an  advance  in  empirical 
knowledge  that  if  the  old  scientists  of  two  or  three  cen- 


104 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING 


turies  ago  could  see  it,  they  undoubtedly  would  be  great 
ly  surprised.  Today  the  standard  of  science  stands  above 
all;  it  has  crushed  and  annihilated  many  ugly  supersti 
tions  and  has  become  a  source  and  foundation  of  many 
blessings  and  much  happiness  to  mankind.  Thanks  to  it, 
we  are  not  compelled  to  go  in  search  of  an  explanation 
in  myths  for  the  beautiful  and  majestic  display  of  charm 
ing  colors  in  the  rainbow.  Nor  do  we  wonder  at  the  fall 
ing  stars.  There  is  hardly  anything  in  the  horizon  of  our 
globe  left  free  from  persistent  microscopic  researches  of 
science.  Science  does  not  know  admissions  and  does 
not  employ  presumptions.  It  has  only  facts  to  deal  with, 
and  whatever  science  says  you  may  rest  assured  that  it  is 
so.  Now,  those  professing  dualism  cannot  say  even  this 
much.  They  must  use  admissions  and  presumptions  to 
build  up  their  theories.  This  being  the  case,  which  of 
these  schools  is  to  be  considered  the  safest,  the  one  which 
deals  with  facts  and  only  facts,  or  the  other  which  builds 
its  palaces  in  the  air?" 

"Of  course  the  one  which  deals  with  facts,"  said  Mr. 
Irving.  "But  now  let  me  ask  you  a  simple  question. 
Admitting  that  science  is  what  you  state  it  to  be,  deal 
ing  with  cold  facts,  observing  and  measuring  things  with 
meters  and  barometers,  what  does  science  say  will  become 
of  me  when  I  die?" 

"Science."  replied  Dr.  Ihringier,  "does  not  say  that 
you  will  go  to " 

"O  Lord,  no."  interrupted  Mr.  Irving,  "of  course  not, 
for  I  don't  intend  to.  But  I  don't  want  to  know  what  it 
does  not  say.  You  tell  me  what  it  does  say." 

"Well,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier,  "Science  says  that 
when  you  die  that  will  be  your  end,  which  means  there 


105 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


will  be  no  more  of  yourself.  Your  dead  body  will  begin 
its  work  for  a  new  life  by  disappearing  gradually  under 
different  forms  and  becoming  a  part  of  some  other  living 
entities,  not  necessarily  human.  They  may  be  plants,  ani 
mals,  etc.,  and  the  rest  of  course  you  know,  there  will  be 
on  your  grave  an  epitaph,  which  will  read ;  fSic  transit 
gloria  mundi.' ' 

"And  what  will  become  of  my  soul,  my  spirit,  my  I, 
which  makes  me  what  I  am?''  inquired  Mr.  Irving  again. 

"There  is  no  such  a  thing  as  your  I,  when  your  body 
is  gone,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier.  "What  you  are  saying 
now  is  something  which  you  have  learned  from  the  dual- 
istic  school  and  which  is  known  as  metaphysics.  That 
does  not  belong  to  science." 

"Then  according  to  science,  there  is  no  such  a  thing 
as  a  soul  or  spirit  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Irving. 

"O  yes,  there  is,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier.  "In  order 
to  give  you  a  precise  idea  of  it,  I  will  quote  verbatim  the 
most  prominent  monist  of  our  days,  who  makes  this  state 
ment  to  answer  the  question :  what  is  monism  ?  This  state 
ment  defining  monistic  views  gives  also  a  precise  idea  as 
to  what  is  a  soul  or  spirit  according  to  scientific  re 
searches.  Here  is  the  formula: 

"  'i.  Pure  monism  is  identical  neither  with  the  theo 
retical  materialism  that  denies  the  existence  of  spirit  and 
dissolves  the  world  into  a  heap  of  dead  atoms,  nor  with 
the  theoretical  spiritualism,  (lately  entitled  "energetic" 
spiritualism  by  Ostwald)  which  rejects  the  notion  of  mat 
ter  and  considers  the  world  to  be  a  specially  arranged 
group  of  "energies"  or  immaterial  natural  forces.' 

"  '2.  On  the  contrary,  we  hold,  with  Goethe,  that  "mat 
ter  cannot  exist  and  be  operative  without  spirit,  nor 


106 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 

spirit  without  matter."  We  adhere  firmly  to  the  pure,  un 
equivocal  monism  of  Spinoza;  Matter,  or  infinitely  ex 
tended  substance,  and  spirit  (or  energy)  or  sensitive  and 
thinking  substance,  are  the  two  fundamental  attributes 
or  principal  properties  of  the  all-embracing  divine  essence 
of  the  world,  the  universal  substance.'  "  (*) 

"Well,  that  is  clear,"  said  Mr.  Irving.  "Your  monism 
is  not  as  bad  as  Dr.  Darling  represented  it  to  be.  It  says 
that  matter  cannot  exist  without  spirit." 

"But  it  also  says  that  spirit  cannot  exist  without  mat 
ter,"  remarked  Dr.  Darling. 

"Well,  then  there  must  be  something  wrong  with  the 
definition  of  the  spirit,"  said  Mr.  Irving. 

"Nothing  wrong  about  the  definition,"  replied  Dr. 
Ihringier.  "The  above  statement  clearly  specifies  that 
spirit  or  sensitive  and  thinking  substance  is  a  fundamental 
attribute  or  principal  property  of  the  universal  substance, 
governed  by  the  so-called  law  of  substance  just  the  same 
as  matter  is." 

"And  what  is  the  law  of  substance?"  asked  Mr.  Irving. 

"Under  the  name  of  'Law  of  Substance,'  answered 
Dr.  Ihringier,  "We  embrace  two  supreme  laws  of  dif 
ferent  origin  and  age.  The  older  is  the  chemical  law  of 
the  conservation  of  matter,  and  the  younger  is  the  physi 
cal  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy." 

"But,  I  do  not  see  where  the  spirit  comes  into  this 
chaos,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Irving,  impatiently. 

"It  is  because  youi  have  a  confused  conception  of  the 
spirit,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier.  "You  think  of  a  spirit 
as  you  have  been  taught  by  the  dualistic  school.  A  spirit 
independent  of  matter,  an  immortal  spirit,  as  they  call  it, 

(*)     E.  Haeckel.     The  Riddle  of  the  Universe.    Page  20. 

107 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


does  not  exist  according  to  science.  And  that  is  why  the 
belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  human  soul  is  a  dogma 
which  is  in  hopeless  contradiction  with  the  most  solid 
empirical  truths  of  modern  science.  That  this  is  so,  I 
will  endeavor  to  show  you  in  a  manner  that  will  con 
vince  the  greatest  opponent  of  scientific  researches.  In 
the  first  place  I  owe  you  an  explanation  of  the  words 
'soul'  and  'spirit.' 

"  'The  anemos  and  psyche  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  anima 
and  spiritus  of  the  Romans,  were  originally  all  names  for 
"a  breath  of  wind."  They  were  transferred  from  this 
to  the  breath  of  man.  After  a  time  this  "living-  breath" 
was  identified  with  the  "vital  force,"  and  finally  it  came 
to  be  regarded  as  the  soul  itself,  or  in  a  narrower  sense, 
as  its  highest  manifestation,  "spirit."  From  that  the 
imagination  went  on  to  derive  the  mystic  notion  of  indi 
vidual  "spirits."'  (*)  This  is  how  the  names  originated; 
and  now  let  us  see  what  science  knows  about  the  ex 
istence  of  a  soul  or  spirit  in  man ; 

"  'The  physiological  argument  shows  that  the  human 
soul  is  not  an  independent,  immaterial  substance,  but,  like 
the  soul  of  all  higher  animals,  merely  a  collective  title  for 
the  sum-total  of  man's  cerebral  functions,  and  these  are 
just  as  much  determined  by  physical  and  chemical  pro 
cesses  as  any  other  vital  functions  and  just  as  amenable 
to  the  law  of  substance. 

"  'The  histological  argument  is  based  on  the  extremely 
complicated  microscopic  structure  of  the  brain;  it  shows 
as  the  true  "elementary  organs  of  the  soul"  in  the  gan- 
glionic  cells. 

"  'The  experimental  argument  proves  that  the  various 


(*)     E.  Haeckel.     Ibid.     Page  200. 

108 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING 


functions  of  the  soul  are  bound  up  with  certain  special 
parts  of  the  brain  and  cannot  be  exercised  unless  they 
are  in  a  normal  condition;  if  the  areas  are  destroyed, 
their  function  is  extinguished ;  and  this  is  especially  ap 
plicable  to  the  "organs  of  thought,"  the  four  central  in 
struments  of  mental  activity. 

'The  pathological  argument  is  the  complement  of  the 
physiological;  when  certain  parts  of  the  brain  (the  cen 
ters  of  speech,  sight,  hearing,  etc.)  are  destroyed  by  sick 
ness,  their  activity  (speech,  vision,  hearing, etc.)  disap 
pears;  in  this  way  nature  herself  makes  the  decisive 
physiological  experiment. 

"  'The  onto  genetic  argument  puts  before  us  the  facts  of 
the  development  of  the  soul  in  the  individual ;  we  see  how 
the  child-soul  gradually  unfolds  its  various  powers ;  the 
youth  presents  them  in  full  bloom,  the  mature  man  shows 
their  ripe  fruit;  in  old  age  we  see  the  gradual  decay  of 
the  psychic  powers  corresponding  to  the  senile  degenera 
tion  of  the  brain. 

"  'The  phylo  genetic  argument  derives  its  strength  from 
palaeontology  and  the  comparative  anatomy  and  physi 
ology  of  the  brain ;  co-operating  with  and  completing  each 
other,  these  sciences  prove  to  the  hilt  that  the  human 
brain  (and  consequently  its  function' — the  soul)  has  been 
evolved  step  by  step  from  that  of  the  mammal,  and  still 
further  back,  from  that  of  the  lower  vertebrate.'"  (*) 

Count  Morat,  who  up  to  this  time  was  listening  very 
attentively,  did  not  intend  to  take  any  active  part  in  the 
discussion,  prefering  to  hear  the  opinions  of  his  guests. 
But  when  Dr.  Ihringier  began  to  enumerate  the  scientific 
sources  of  his  argument,  wishing  to  establish  the  fact  that 

(*)     E.  Haeckel.     Ibid.     Page  204. 

109 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  human  soul  or  spirit  was  merely  a  collective  title  for 
the  sum-total  of  man's  cerebral  functions,  he  could  not 
remain  silent  any  longer,  and  turning  to  Dr.  Ihringier, 
said: 

"While  I  agree  with  you  on  many  scientific  points  ad 
vanced  by  you,  I  certainly  consider  your  last  argument 
of  no  value.  The  sources  enumerated  purporting  to 
prove  the  leading  assertion  absolutely  fail  in  the  attempt, 
owing  to  the  misuse  of  the  names  'soul,'  or  'spirit.'  In 
giving  the  origin  of  those  names,  you  say  that  they  be 
came  identical  with  'vital  force'  and  the  rest  followed 
as  a  work  of  imagination.  The  first  question  that  we 
face  here  is,  what  makes  you  think  that  spirit  is  identi 
cal  with  the  vital  force?  On  what  do  you  base  such  an 
assertion?  What  sort  of  empirical  knowledge  teaches  you 
that?  Here  it  is  where  a  great  error  is  committed,  and 
where  your  knowledge  is  at  fault  because  it  is  not  empiri 
cal.  In  your  researches  for  the  spirit,  owing  to  the 
methods  you  are  using,  you  can  go  only  as  far  as  'vital 
force'  and  there  you  have  to  halt.  But  evidently,  you 
are  after  the  spirit,  and  not  finding  it  in  a  form  suscep 
tible  to  your  researches,  you  identify  it  with  'vital  force' 
in  order  to  bring  it  under  the  ruling  of  the  so-called  law 
of  substance.  This  is  the  only  evident  cause  which  makes 
you  assume  that  spirit  is  identical  with  the  'vital  force.' 
For  you  certainly  have  no  empirical  knowledge  whatso 
ever  to  the  effect  that  the  spirit  and  the  'vital  force'  are 
one  and  the  same  thing.  However,  if  you  want  to  use 
the  name  of  spirit,  you  must  use  it  in  the  sense  in  which 
it  was  conceived  originally,  namely,  as  an  entity  capable 
of  existing  without  matter  such  as  the  human  body  is, 
and  much  superior  in  its  substance  to  it.  But  since  your 


110 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 

empirical  knowledge  does  not  permit  such  an  admission, 
why  are  you  using  that  name  at  all?  Is  it  because  that 
name,  Spirit,  had  been  in  use  long  before  you  obtained 
your  empirical  knowledge,  or  because  you  were  after  it 
and  not  finding  it  under  your  microscopic  observations 
you  concluded  that  the  vital  force  must  be  the  soul  ?  You 
must  consider  that  believers  in  the  existence  of  an  im 
mortal  soul,  and  those  represent  hundreds  of  millions, 
say  and  quite  successfully  prove  that  there  is  in  man  the 
same  as  in  all  other  entities,  that  which  you  call  Vital 
force/  But  the  spirit,  which  is  not  the  'vital  force,'  is 
only  in  man.  This  assertion,  according  to  the  empirical 
knowledge  at  your  disposal,  is  called  imagination  or  super 
stition,  but  this  is  not  the  case.  This  only  shows  and 
emphatically  proves  that  the  monistic  school  as  well  as 
materialistic,  is  governed  by  such  an  empirical  knowledge 
as  is  accessible  to  gross  senses  only,  and  this  is  why  they 
cannot  admit  the  existence  of  the  soul.  That  you  know 
and  govern  your  researches  by  your  empirical  knowledge 
does  not  indicate  nor  prove  that  there  is  no  empirical 
knowledge  which  establishes  the  dualistic  view  as  forcibly 
as  monistic  and  materialistic  schools  do  theirs.  The 
standing  you  take  in  this  case  is  as  much  irrational  as  you 
think  your  adversaries  hold.  Having  in  view  the  unten- 
ability  of  the  admissions  you  make;  look  at  your  own 
arguments  and  see  how  they  sound : 

"Your  physiological  argument  shows  that  man's  cere 
bral  functions  are  just  as  much  determined  by  physical 
and  chemical  processes  as  any  of  the  other  vital  func 
tions,  and  why?  Because  they  are  only  vital  functions. 

"Your  histological  argument  shows,  that  there  is  a 
certain  'elementary  organ'  in  the  ganglionic  cells,  which 


ill 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


you  call  'elementary  organs  of 'the  soul.'  Of  course  you 
do  not  mean  this  organ  is  a  soul. 

"Your  experimental  and  pathological  arguments  show, 
that  when  a  wheel  is  broken  it  cannot  perform  its  func 
tions.  Only  natural. 

"Your  onto  genetic  argument  shows,  that  man  and 
his  organs  grow  gradually,  and  according  to  the  stage 
of  development  produce  a  corresponding  action.  Per 
fectly  correct. 

"Your  phylogenetic  argument  shows,  that  the  human 
race  has  been  subject  to  the  law  of  evolution  the  same  as 
anything  else.  Only  true.  But,  what  have  all  these  argu 
ments  to  do  with  the  soul  or  spirit?  Following  your  sys 
tem  of  observations  it  would  be  much  safer  to  omit  those 
names  and  say  as  much  in  this  connection  as  you  do  in 
other  branches  of  science.  We  know  some  of  the  work 
ings  of  the  law  of  gravitation;  we  know  some  uses  of 
electricity,  but  we  do  not  know  what  the  law  of  gravita 
tion  is,  nor  do  we  know  what  electricity  is." 

"This  is  a  splendid  demonstration  of  the  untenability 
of  monistic  views,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Darling,  joyously. 
"From  an  erroneous  admission,  only  erroneous  conclu 
sions  can  be  made." 

"There  is  nothing  erroneous  in  the  premises,"  replied 
Dr.  Ihringier,  "Don't  you  affirm  that  the  life  and  its 
activity  are  due  to  the  soul?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  answered  Count  Morat  "But  it  does 
not  follow  that  the  activity  of  life  is  the  soul.  A  machine 
is  operated  by  electricity.  Would  you  consider  the  activ 
ity  of  that  machine  to  be  the  electricity?" 

"Then,  if  life,  its  activity  or  vital  force  in  man  is  not 


112 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSE  WARMING. 

his  soul,  where  is  that  wonderful  soul  of  yours?"  in 
quired  Dr.  Ihring-ier. 

"That  is  what  I  wanted  to  learn  from  you,  doctor," 
said  Mr.  Irving,  triumphantly.  "You  profess  to  know 
all  knowable  with  your  empirical  knowledge,  yet  you 
don't  know  where  your  soul  is.  But,  I  say  men,  what  is 
the  use?  More  you  hear  of  this,  less  you  know.  What 
is  the  use?" 

"Don't  be  so  discouraged,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  merrily. 
"You  better  turn  now  to  Dr.  Darling  and  with  all  your 
piety,  say  to  him;  in  manus  tuas  commendo  spiritum 
meum."  (Into  thy  hands,  I  commend  my  spirit.) 

"I  will  do  so  gladly,"  replied  Mr.  Irving,  "provided 
Dr.  Darling  will  establish  his  theory  on  a  firmer  basis 
than  that  of  our  learned  Doctor." 

"In  the  first  place,  you  make  a  great  mistake  in  usiny 
the  term  theory,  alluding  to  what  we  profess,"  said  Dr. 
Darling,  authoritatively  "What  you  heard  from  our 
friend  Dr.  Ihringier,  was  a  pure  and  simple  theory  and 
this  was  ably  demonstrated  by  our  eloquent  host.  But 
what  we  profess  and  teach  is  nothing  but  absolute  truth — 
a  truth  known  by  mankind  since  the  creation  of  the 
world." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Dr.  Ihringier.  "Since  the  creation 
of  the  world,  did  you  say?  Then  you  believe  that  our 
earth  was  created?" 

"Most  positively,"  answered  Dr.  Darling. 

"And  when  did  that  happen?"  asked  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"According  to  the  Jewish  calendar,  5,666  years  ago. 
But  of  course  our  calculation  differs  a  little  from  that," 
replied  ^Dr.  Darling,  with  a  calm,  didactic  voice. 


113 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"And  by  what  process  did  this  act  of  creation  occur, 
may  I  ask  you?"  said  the  physician. 

"By  what  process?  Why,  by  no  process  at  all,"  re 
plied  Dr.  Darling  indignantly.  "God  created  the  heaven 
and  the  earth  of  nothing.  You  speak  as  though  you 
were  born  and  raised  somewhere  in  Africa.  Thank  the 
Lord,  Philadelphia,  where  you  were  born,  is  a  Christian 
city,  where  every  child  knows  how  the  Almighty  created 
the  heaven  and  the  earth  in  six  days,  and  on  the  seventh 
rested  from  all  his  work." 

"That  I  knew  when  I  was  a  child,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier. 
"But  now,  I  know  as  a  mature  man  that  the  statement 
you  just  made  is  a  stupendous  contradiction  to  the  real 
truth." 

"And  that  real  truth  is ?"  suggested  Mr.  Milton. 

"By  Jove,"  shouted  Dr.  Ihringier,  "you  ask  me  ques 
tions  as  though  you  did  not  know  what  the  real  truth 
was  in  the  matter.  The  truth  is,  that  there  was  no  such 
a  thing  as  a  creation.  Besides,  just  think  of  the  amusing 
assertion,  that  our  planet  has  been  in  existence  only  five 
or  six  thousand  years;  simply  ridiculous.  Is  there  any 
necessity  that  I  should  say  that  today,  only  savages  and 
half  civilized  people  can  believe  in  a  story  like  that  ?  No 
man  with  a  little  bit  of  intelligence  can  accept  the  Jewish 
myth  for  the  truth.  It  is  a  positive  and  undeniable  fact 
that  our  planet  has  been  in  existence  not  less  than  one 
hundred  million  years.  This  we  know  empirically.  For  it 
is  a  well  known  fact  amongst  scientists  and  the  thinking 
public,  that  geologists  distinguish  besides  the  primordial 
age,  which  had  a  duration  of  fifty-two  million  years,  three 
great  epochs  in  the  organic  history  of  the  earth,  as  far  as 
we  can  read  it  in  the  monuments  of  science  of  fossils — 


114 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 

the  primary,  secondary,  and  tertiary  epochs.  According 
to  a  recent  calculation,  the  first  occupied  at  least  thirty- 
four  million,  the  second  eleven  million,  and  the  third  three 
million  years.  The  history  of  the  family  of  vertebrates, 
from  which  our  own  race  has  sprung,  unfolds  clearly  be 
fore  our  eyes  during  this  long  period.  Three  different 
stages  in  the  evolution  of  the  vertebrate  correspond  to  the 
three  epochs;  the  fishes  characterized  the  primary  (palaeo 
zoic)  age,  the  reptiles  the  secondary  (mesozoic)  age,  and 
the  mammals  the  tertiary  ( caenozoic. ) "  (*) 

"Ta,  ta,  ta,"  shouted  Mr.  Irving;  "now  we  run  into 
millions,  don't  we?  But  can  you  tell  me  how  you  know 
about  those  millions?" 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Irving,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier,  a  little 
irritated.  "Do  you  know  anything  about  a  horse?" 

"A  horse?"  repeated  Mr.  Irving.  "Why,  yes,  when  I 
see  a  horse  I  know  it  is  not  a  cow." 

"That  is  not  what  I  want  to  know,"  remarked  Dr. 
Ihringier,  "What  I  wish  to  know  is,  whether  you  know 
something  about  the  breeding  of  horses  and  the  details 
connected  with  it." 

"No,  that  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Mr.  Irving. 

"You  used  to  keep  horses,"  said  the  Doctor.  "Can  you 
tell  the  age  of  a  horse  when  you  see  one?" 

"O  Lord,  no,  I  do  not  know  anything  about  the  age  of 
a  horse,  and  that  is  why,  when  I  buy  one,  I  always  ask 
the  advice  of  my  friend  the  veterinary,  what  is  his 
name ?" 

"Never  mind  about  the  name,"  interrupted  Dr.  Ihrin 
gier.  "The  fact  is,  that  you  rely  upon  the  opinion  of  a 


(*)    E.  Haeckel.     Ibid.     Page  270. 

115 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


veterinary;  and  now,  will  you  tell  me,  why  do  you  do 
that?" 

"Simply  because  the  veterinary  knows  all  about  it,  and 
he  can  tell  me  about  the  age  of  a  horse  almost  to  a  day 
after  examining  the  animal's  mouth,"  replied  Mr.  Irving. 

"That  is  it,"  said  the  Doctor,  "The  geologists  represent 
in  this  case  the  veterinaries  of  our  globe.  They  read 
from  the  records  of  the  earth  and  tell  us  about  the  age 
of  our  planet  just  the  same  as  your  veterinary  does  his 
reading  from  the  mouth  of  your  horse,  and  that  is 
how  we  know  about  the  millions  of  years  counting  the 
duration  of  the  existence  of  our  earth." 

"Now,  then,  what  about  those  six  days  in  which  the 
earth  was  created,  Dr.  Darling?"  inquired  Mr.  Irving. 

"These  millions  of  years,"  replied  Dr.  Darling,  "are 
as  problematical  as  that  wonderful  soul  which  was  found 
by  the  monistic  philosophers.  Besides,  assuming  that 
calculations  of  geologists  represent  some  truth,  it  does 
not  contradict  the  creation  in  six  days." 

"How  is  that;  will  you  explain  it?"  asked  Dr.  Ihrin- 
gier. 

"Willingly,"  said  Dr.  Darling.  "It  is  true  the  Holy 
Scriptures  speak  of  the  creation  being  accomplished  in 
six  days,  but  Scriptures  do  not  state  the  length  of  those 
days.  They  could  represent  millions  of  years." 

"Pardon  me/'  said  Mr.  Milton,  "but  here  is  no  place 
for  'could.'  The  Scriptures  state  in  plain  language  that 
'the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  first  day'  and  so 
on.  Speaking  correctly  this  ought  to  signify  the  first 
night,  for  it  starts  with  the  evening  and  ends  with  the 
morning.  But,  this  is  the  identical  language  used  by 
the  Jewish  book.  If  the  evening  and  the  morning  were 


116 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEW  ARMING. 

the  first  day  it  could  not  be  millions  of  years,  unless 
we  speculate  on  the  length  of  the  day  by  supposing  that 
our  earth  did  not  make  its  revolutions  then  as  fast  as  it 
does  now." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Darling,  "that  admission  could  not 
possibly  represent  an  error,  for  hardly  can  astronomers, 
or  anyone  else  tell  at  what  rate  our  globe  -was  making 
its  revolutions  at  that  time." 

"And  what  about  those  5,666  years  after  the  creation. 
How  do  you  explain  that?"  asked  Mr.  Irving. 

"The  matter  is  very  simple,"  answered  Dr.  Darling. 
"The  epoch  representing  that  number  of  years  commences 
at  the  time  described  by  Moses  in  his  pentateuch,  and 
ends  with  the  year  1906,  of  our  era." 

"But,  by  Jove!  That  epoch  dates  from  the  first  day 
of  creation,  if  we  have  to  believe  the  Writ,"  exclaimed 
Dr.  Ihringier. 

"Oh,  well,  probably  that  is  when  Moses  made  his  mis 
takes,"  joined  Mr.  Irving.  "But  what  is  the  use!  If  he 
succeeded  in  describing1  his  own  death  in  his  fifth  book, 
why  could  he  not  succeed  in  fixing  the  date  of  the  creation 
to  suit  his  fancy?  Poor  thing,  he  did  not  know  geol 
ogy.  But  I  suppose  this  part  belongs  to  the  man  who 
wrote  about  the  mistakes  of  Moses." 

"Never  mind  about  that,"  shouted  Dr.  Ihringier.  "But 
is  not  this  a  fair  specimen  of  what  I  said,  that  admissions 
and  suppositions  are  the  only  foundations  on  which  the 
dualistic  school  such  as  represented  by  our  learned  Dr. 
Darling,  can  build  and  maintain  its  theories?" 

"That  brings  us  forcibly  to  the  ground  commonly 
known  under  the  name  of  conflict  between  science  and 
religion,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton. 


117 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"There  would  be  no  ground  for  the  conflict,  if  you 
would  exercise  more  faith  and  less  idle  reasoning,"  said 
Dr.  Darling. 

'What?"  ejaculated  Dr.  Ihringier,  "More  faith,  you 
say?  But  for  land's  sake,  why  should  we  look  for  faith 
at  all  when  we  have  knowledge  ?  Is  not  knowledge,  such 
as  offered  by  science,  enough  for  us?" 

"No,"  replied  Dr.  Darling,  "It  is  not  enough,  because 
science  does  not  give  you  much.  Besides,  science  is  not 
well  posted  about  the  things  it  teaches.  The  trouble  is 
that  you  are  relying  upon  your  reasoning  too  much. 
What  a  pity !  This  age  of  materialism  and  scepticism 
is  permeated  with  that  terrible  conceit  which  makes  its 
followers  more  than  dangerous.  O  that  idle  reasoning! 
Would  that  you  were  not  so  proud  of  it !" 

"Idle  reasoning,  you  say?"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "I  am 
curious  to  know  what  would  become  of  you  without  that 
reasoning!  What  is  the  basis  of  the  whole  structure  of 
your  theology,  if  it  is  not  refined  reasoning?  \Vhat  i? 
it  that  you  are  doing  now?  Is  it  not  reasoning  that 
shines  in  every  phrase  you  utter  defending  your  position  ? 
Your  efforts  to  explain  the  creation  in  six  days,  and  again 
in  regard  to  the  Jewish  calendar,  is  not  that  a  pure  and 
simple  reasoning  which,  although  devoid  of  all  possible 
probabilities,  is  clothed  with  that  plausible  subtility  which 
only  the  trained  mind  of  a  theologian  can  devise?" 

"No,  my  friend,  an  explanation  is  not  a  reasoning," 
answered  Dr.  Darling1,  "I  simply  explained  things  which 
you,  with  your  materialistic  views,  could  not  understand. 
This  is  far  from  being  a  reasoning  of  the  sort  you  use 
in  regard  to  those  matters." 

"Now1  that  we  are  on  the  ground,"  resumed  Mr.  Milton, 


118 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


"permit  me  to  be  frank  with  you,  and  tell  you,  in  a  general 
way,  some  truths  which  I  have  gathered  during  many 
years  of  my  thinking  and  observation.  Only  a  little 
while  ago  you  said  that  what  you  profess  and  teach  is 
nothing  but  absolute  truth.  But  have  you  ever  thought 
of  the  importance  of  such  an  utterance?  Can  you  real 
ize  the  enormity  of  the  mistake  made  by  such  an  asser 
tion?  For  you  will  agree  with  me  that  today,  all  think 
ing  men  know  that  there  is  nothing  absolute  known  to 
mankind  as  yet.  All  that  we  know  is  necessarily  relative 
and  conditional.  Relative  as  conceptions  and  conditional 
with  our  aptitude  of  understanding.  There  is  not  one 
principle  in  the  whole  Christian  doctrine,  whether  of  dog 
matic  nature  or  disciplinary  character,  which  has  not 
been  evolved  with  the  progress  of  human  understanding. 
Yet  we  hear  incessantly  that  religious  teachers  are  the 
only  happy  possessors  of  truths  which  are  absolute! 
What  a  mockery !  Compare  and  see  where  your  abso 
lute  truth  stands  when  you  face  the  problem  of  creation 
such  as  taught  by  you  and  such  as  presented  by  the  em 
pirical  knowledge  of  science.  Now,  let  us  have  an  illus 
tration  and  see  by  what  miraculous  process  the  preachers 
came  into  possession  of  that  precious  absolute  truth  which, 
in  fact,  does  not  exist.  Let  us  take  for  instance  one  of 
those  teachers,  whether  he  be  a  modest  protestant 
preacher  or  an  ordained  priest  of  one  of  the  older 
churches.  This  candidate  for  the  ministry,  devotes  many 
of  his  younger  years  to  special  studies  in  order  to  qualify 
himself  for  the  chosen  career.  He  learns  the  numerous 
assertions  made  by  men  living  at  intervals  during  the 
last  nineteen  hundred  years.  These  codified  assertions 
represent  various  branches  of  ecclesiastical  literature 


119 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


known  as  Dogmatic  and  Moral  Theologies  and  the  so- 
called  Christian  philosophy.  Once  the  candidate  reaches 
the  desired  goal  it  is  his  sacred  duty  to  represent  the  set 
of  teaching  the  way  he  has  acquired  them,  namely,  as 
absolute  truth..  Assuming  that  all  preachers  are  honest 
and  upright  men,  we  can  not  refuse  to  acknowledge  that 
they  preach  what  they  know  and  believe  to  be  the  ab 
solute  truth.  But  this  fact,  that  preachers  see  it  that  way 
as  a  result  of  their  clerical  education,  their  good  faith, 
or  as  a  mark  of  their  extreme  limitedness,  does  not  alter 
the  other  fact,  that  there  is  no  absolute  truth  so  far  known 
to  our  race.  To  corroborate  this  statement  we  can  take 
an  example  from  the  existing  religious  bodies.  An  ab 
solute  truth  represents  a  certain  oneness  which  is  loosed 
from  all  limitation  or  condition,  uncontrolled,  unrestrict 
ed  and  unconditional,  and  as  such,  necessarily  must  be 
knozvn  by  all  alike.  This  is  not  the  case  with  our  re 
ligious  bodies.  The  fact  that  there  are  somewhere  near 
one  hundred  distinct  Christian  churches,  each  claiming 
to  be  the  possessor  of  the  only  truth,  shows  that  the 
truth  promulgated  by  them  has  none  of  the  qualities  of 
absolutism.  Otherwise  what  makes  these  divisions?  If 
they  all  teach  an  'absolute  truth'  why  these  divisions? 
There  must  be  some  cause,  and  this  cause  is  undoubtedly 
the  conditional  understanding  they  have  of  that  presum 
ably  absolute  truth.  Those  who  assert  that  these  divi 
sions  are  due  solely  to  the  disciplinary  motives  of  their  re 
spective  churches  betray  gross  ignorance  in  the  matter, 
for  we  all  know  the  freedom  of  thought  and  action  per 
mitted  in  one  church  would  not  be  tolerated  in  another 
and  would  be  considered  as  sacrilegious  in  a  third  one. 
In  other  words,  what  is  considered  inoffensive  in  one 


120 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


church  is  of  grave  importance  in  another.  You  can 
have  a  lot  of  men  and  women  sing1  for  you  love  songs 
and  the  like  on  the  platform  of  a  Methodist  church,  to 
which  you  can  applaud  to  your  heart's  content;  but  you 
cannot  do  that  in  any  of  the  older  churches  such  as  Cath 
olic,  Episcopal  or  any  of  the  oriental  churches,  because 
such  an  act  would  be  considered  sacrilegious.  From  the 
above  we  see  that  the  conception  of  God  and  the  manner 
in  which  He  must  be  revered  in  the  sanctuary  dedicated 
to  him,  in  one  case,  namely,  in  the  older  churches  is  that 
of  an  aristocrat  who  sees  his  God  on  a  golden  throne, 
with  all  imaginable  majesty,  who  has  in  his  well  ap 
pointed  court  an  army  of  well  trained  courtiers  dressed 
in  the  prescribed  uniform  of  all  sorts  of  colors,  shapes  and 
forms.  They  are  governed  by  the  rules  and  regulations 
constituting  the  code  of  the  etiquette  of  the  court,  just 
the  same  as  the  courts  of  European  monarchs  are  today. 
To  such  a  court,  not  everybody  can  be  admitted.  In  case 
you  seek  an  admission,  you  must  have  your  credentials 
sometimes  in  the  shape  of  your  good  deeds,  and  most  of 
the  time  in  the  form  of  an  intercession  of  those  who  be 
long  to  the  great  court.  No  levity  of  any  kind  permitted, 
no  clapping  or  shaking  hands.  Should  you  be  of  the 
number  of  the  happy  ones,  you  must  appear  in  full  uni 
form  with  all  the  prescribed  formalities  and  not  other 
wise.  In  the  other  case,  namely,  in  the  younger  religious 
organizations,  the  conception  of  God  is  that  of  a  Kansas 
farmer  who  does  not  wish  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  monarchical  form  of  government.  No  throne,  no 
courtiers  for  him.  He  sees  in  his  God  a  good  friend  with 
whom  he  can  talk  in  his  customary  way.  He  can  meet 
him  in  any  old  place  in  any  old  fashion.  These  demo- 


121 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


cratic  relations  permit  him  to  sing  a  love  song  'of  the 
girl  he  saw  in  the  cornfields'  whenever  he  pleases  in  the 
sanctuary  dedicated  to  his  God.  He  does  this  in  his  sim 
plicity,  perfectly  convinced  that  his  God  will  not  be  of 
fended,  and  he  is  as  happy  as  his  neighbor  who  worships 
an  aristocratic  God.  These  conceptions,  human  as  they 
are,  are  real  and  actual,  for  I  copy  them  from  what  I  see 
practiced  by  our  mutual  neighbors.  Judging  from  these 
and  a  thousand  other  things  which  constitute  difference 
amongst  Christian  churches,  we  are  safe  in  asserting  that 
the  sole  cause  of  it  is,  the  diversity  in  the  understanding 
of  Deity  which  requires  of  them  a  certain  recognition  of 
his  supremacy  in  some  suitable  external  form  and  not  a 
mere  formality  for  the  establishment  of  the  government 
of  a  given  church. 

"The  churches  claim  that  they  have  been  established  by 
God,  but  their  practices  force  us  to  the  inevitable  con 
clusion  that  they  are  in  the  business  of  establishing  God 
according  to  their  limited  and  often  times  crude  concep 
tions,  and  this  shows  time  and  again  that  there  is  no  such 
a  thing  as  an  absolute  truth  known  to  them.  This  comes 
from  seemingly  well  educated  people, — thinking  people. 
Does  not  this  look  like  a  farce?  Is  not  this  a  more  gro 
tesque  chaos  than  that  created  by  the  ignorant  ?" 

Dr.  Darling  listened  to  the  above  very  attentively,  but 
he  did  not  show  any  desire  to  reply.  He  did  not  even  be 
tray  impatience  or  displeasure,  as  one  might  expect  on 
such  an  occasion,  for  he  knew  Mr.  Milton  well,  and  if 
anything  he  had  only  respect  and  great  esteem  for  his 
character  and  ability  in  discerning  things  and  men.  He 
saw  the  main  object  so  simply  pointed  out  by  him  and 
began  thinking  whether,  after  all,  he  was  not  right.  Ab- 


122 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 

solute  truth !  O  what  a  problem !  It  was  not  a  question 
whether  there  was  an  absolute  truth  at  all;  but  whether 
such  a  truth  was  known  to  men.  He  began  to  ask, 
whether  he,  wishing  to  be  candid  to  himself,  could  say 
that  he  knew  an  absolute  truth,  and  was  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  was  no  such  a  thing  in  his  knowl 
edge.  Being  himself  a  thinker,  he  devoted  much  of  his 
time  to  this  subject  with  no  satisfactory  results,  and  fin 
ally  concluded  to  silence  all  demands  for  further  analysis. 
He  recollected  his  younger  days,  while  he  was  studying 
his  theology.  Prompted  by  a  noble,  lofty  desire  to  serve 
humanity  in  a  capacity  that  would  be  beneficial,  he  learned 
the  teachings  given  to  him,  never  doubting  the  author 
ity  of  the  giver.  Sincere  and  honest  as  he  was,  he  had 
no  reason  whatsoever  to  think  that  the  teachings  learned 
by  him  were  not  expressions  of  verity.  Every  time  he 
learned  a  new  argument  of  a  combatable  character 
against  those  whom  he  was  told  were  infidels,  he  felt 
proud  beyond  expression.  With  well  defined  aims  in 
view,  he  proceeded  in  his  studies  with  the  avidity  of  an 
honest  student.  But,  when  the  epoch  of  his  studies  passed 
and  when  he  came  in  contact  with  real  life  and  began  to 
read  subjects  of  his  choice,  his  thinking  power  was 
awakened.  Then  the  work  of  analyzing  began.  This 
was  not  the  first  time  he  had  heard  arguments  against  the 
possibility  of  the  existence  of  an  absolute  truth  as  a  know- 
able  thing  to  men.  But  as  a  natural  consequence  due  to 
his  education  and  his  way  of  thinking,  a  logic  of  his  own, 
no  matter  how  defective,  did  not  fail  to  build  for  him 
a  barrier  against  all  sorts  of  doubt.  This,  that  seemed 
to  him  a  powerful  logic,  was  crystalized  in  a  perfectly 
satisfactory  manner  to  him  by  taking  as  an  unmistakable 


123 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


position,  the  admission  of  the  existence  of  God,  such  as 
was  taught  by  his  church.  Once  this  conception  was 
firmly  established  in  his  thoughts,  the  rest  came  very  easy. 
"God  could  not  teach  a  thing  which  was  not  absolutely 
truth."  The  set  of  teachings  he  adhered  to  came  from 
God,  therefore  all  were  nothing  but  absolutely  truth.  Be 
sides,  the  position  of  the  church  was  such,  that  if  it  did 
not  teach  absolute  truth,  it  could  not  exist.  As  for  the 
differences  amongst  the  churches,  he  knew  well  they  ex 
isted,  but  this  was  invariably  attributed  to  some  mis 
takes  committed  by  those  who  were  at  the  head  of  a  given 
organization.  The  assertion  that  the  absolute  truth  could 
not  at  once  exist  in  all  contradictory  religious  sects  with 
out  losing  its  main  characteristics,  did  not  annoy  him 
much,  for  he  was  told  and  he  believed  that  all  others  were 
at  fault  except  his  church,  his  creed.  This  was  all  well 
until  he  came  to  face  a  stronger  logic  than  his  own.  He 
could  not  deny  the  existing  limitations  in  men,  and  when 
confronted  with  the  absolute  truth  requiring  a  total  elimi 
nation  of  all  limitations,  he  could  not  face  the  crisis.  It 
was  a  problem  positively  unsolvable  by  his  logic.  Then 
followed  his  reasoning  on  the  utilitarian  tendencies  of 
his  religion.  It  was  a  good  thing,  a  salutary  institution, 
notwithstanding  the  difficulties  presented  by  its  compli 
cated  teachings,  which,  in  order  to  secure  a  standing,  in 
sistently  demanded  suppression  of  reasoning,  all  the 
while  wholly  remaining  in  an  open  contradiction  with 
the  empirical  knowledge  of  the  scientific  world.  When 
forced  by  his  honesty  and  fair  mindedness,  he  threw  him 
self  at  the  mercy  of  the  conception  which  became  for  him 
a  stronghold  of  the  highest  import;  "God  cannot  teach 
us  anything  but  absolute  truth!  If  there  is  no  absolute 


124 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSEWARMING. 


truth,  there  is  no  God!  Who  would  deny  this?  If  any 
one,  it  was  not  he  who  would  do  so.  Little  he  thought 
of  the  possibility  that  even  the  conception  of  God  was 
subject  to  the  limitations  of  men.  He  had  not  reached 
that  stage  of  development  to  understand  and  admit  this 
self  evident  truth,  and  this  is  why  he  was  timid  and  hor 
ror  stricken  at  the  bare  admission  of  such  a  course.  This 
state  of  mind  made  him  listen  patiently  to  all  that  others 
had  to  say,  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  little  by  little  his 
mind  began  to  run  into  forbidden  channels.  Thus  buried 
in  his  thoughts,  his  meditation  was  abruptly  brought  to 
an  end  by  Count  Morat  addressing  Mr.  Milton. 

"Permit  me  to  tell  you,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "that  your 
short  review  of  the  existing  chaos  produced  by  the  divers 
ity  of  religious  teachings,  undoubtedly  was  an  able  one. 
Of  course,  this  is  a  subject  which  cannot  be  exhausted 
in  a  short  discussion;  but,  I  notice  that  your  studies  of 
orientals  have  furnished  you  good  and  reliable  data  on 
which  you  base  your  conclusions.  That  there  is  a  con 
fusion  created  by  the  diversity  in  understanding  the  teach 
ings  presumably  imported  from  the  Orient,  there  is  not 
the  slightest  doubt.  But,  what  is  the  most  important  to 
my  mind  is  the  fact  that  you  see  so  clearly  the  working 
causes  of  this  multitude  of  opinions  on  the  same  subject. 
The  people  who  differ  so  vastly  in  regard  to  a  conception 
which  they  call  absolute  are  not  to  be  blamed.  The  man 
who  sees  the  sun  travel  over  the  world  and  disappear  in 
the  unknown  abyss,  is  entitled  to  his  opinion  as  much  as 
the  one  who  scientifically  knows  the  absurdity  of  such  an 
assertion.  For  after  all,  what  is  a  religion?  A  religion 
is  an  expression  of  the  process  of  evolution  in  accordance 
with  the  mental  demand  of  the  people  at  a  given  time. 


125 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


This  definition  is  suggested  by  the  experiences  that  our 
race  has  had  in  the  past.  There  was  a  time  when  the 
Babylonian  religion  flourished.  Egyptians  took  their 
turn,  and  when  Greeks  and  Romans  produced  theirs,  it 
was  thought  that  humanity  had  reached  the  highest  ideal 
ever  conceived  by  men.  But  the  following  ages  showed 
that  was  not  the  case,  for  these  religions  all  went  into  ob 
livion  long  ago.  Now  speaking  of  those  religions,  we  call 
them  Mythologies,  perhaps  forgetful  of  the  fact  that 
while  they  were  in  existence  in  the  mind  of  the  masses, 
they  were  as  real  as  the  Christian  religion  is  today. 
They  existed  for  a  period  of  time  and  were  professed  by 
the  people  as  absolute  truths  with  as  much  certainty  as 
the  Christians  do  today  because  their  mentality  demanded 
such  an  expression  in  regard  to  the  unknown  as  contained 
in  those  religions.  Subject  to  the  law  of  evolution,  these 
conceptions  improved  gradually  until  they  reached  the 
mark  of  our  times ;  and  now  as  ever  the  same  law  of  evol 
ution  does  its  work  going  on  and  on  until  the  time  will 
come  when  our  epoch  with  its  picturesque  religions  will 
be  labelled  as  one  of  the  number  of  great  mythologies  of 
the  past.  Speaking  of  the  existing  order  of  today,  in 
conformity  with  the  definition  given  above,  we  can  not 
fail  to  see  its  temporary  application,  for  as  a  set  of  teach 
ings,  although  purely  and  entirely  human,  destined  to  ex 
plain  the  mysteries  of  life,  it  represents  a  cherished  legacy 
to  those  who  are  in  harmony  with  it.  The  question 
whether  the  explanation  furnished  by  the  existing  relig 
ions  explains  anything  at  all,  is  to  be  answered  by  each 
individual  for  himself.  If  one  is  satisfied  with  it,  so  much 
the  better  for  him.  He  will  believe  in  it,  but  not  forever. 
Progress  will  do  its  work  until  he  outgrows  his  own 


126 


A    SCIENTIFIC    HOUSE  WARMING. 


stage.  But  before  that,  it  would  be  in  vain  for  anyone  to 
try  to  take  away  from  him  that  which  he  values  so  much. 
If  he  is  not  satisfied  with  the  explanations  furnished  by  his 
religious  teachings,  he  would  be  troubled;  he  will  run  in 
search  of  something  better;  he  will  devote  much  of  his 
time  and  labor  to  researches  and  studies,  as  you  and  I 
have  done.  And,  'when  the  student  is  ready,  the  teacher 
is  always  found.'  This  is  a  saying  of  old  sages.  Thus 
we  see  that  each  man  individually  must  progress  for  him 
self  as  much  in  his  spiritual  needs  as  he  does  in  his  tem 
poral  ones." 

The  big  clock  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  parlor  an 
nounced  midnight  by  the  vibrating  sounds  of  its  harmo 
nious  bell,  as  though  to  echo  the  last  words  of  Count 
Morat. 

The  room  seemed  to  be  filled  with  an  immense  quantity 
of  all  sorts  of  geometrical  figures  moving  in  the  space 
freely,  and  diffusing  various  delicate  shades  of  blue  yel 
low  and  violet  colors. 

The  momentary  silence  which  followed  the  last  vibrat 
ing  sound  of  the  clock  reigned  undisturbed  as  though  its 
magic  effect  had  thrown  a  forbidding  spell  upon  those 
present. 

But  Dr.  Darling  did  not  notice  this.  His  attention  was 
firmly  fixed  on  the  sentence  hanging  in  burning  letters 
before  him:  "No  absolute  truth  known  to  us!  How  can 
we  give  others  what  we  do  not  possess  ?  Are  we  not  de 
ceiving  ourselves  and  others?"  He  would  have  thus  re 
mained  in  his  deep  thought  indefinitely,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  vivacious  Mr.  Irving,  who  broke  the  silence  by  re 
minding  him  that  he  did  not  answer  yet  the  question  put 
to  him  early  in  the  evening  by  Dr.  Ihringier.  To  this, 


127 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


after  having-  ascertained  by  looking  at  the  clock  how  late 
it  was,  Dr.  Darling  replied  that  he  must  leave  that  ques 
tion  unanswered  until  a  more  favorable  occasion  pre 
sented  itself.  Saying  this,  he  arose,  and  the  rest  followed 
him.  They  all  thanked  Count  Morat  for  the  cordial  re 
ception  extended  to  them  and  left  the  room.  But,  while 
in  the  hall,  after  having  wished  them  good  night,  the 
Count  said  to  his  friends : 

"Gentlemen,  after  all,  we  had  a  housewarming  that 
was  really  scientific." 

The  Chaldean  closed  the  door  and  followed  his  master 
to  his  room. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


Next  morning,  according  to  the  previously  arranged 
programme,  Mr.  Milton  made  his  appearance  on  Al- 
varado  street.  It  was  Count  Morat's  desire  to  familiarize 
himself  with  the  city  of  his  new  home,  and  he  had  asked 
Mr.  Milton  to  accompany  him  in  his  carriage.  The  beau 
tiful  team  of  white  horses,  hitched  to  a  landeau,  was  in 
waiting  at  the  side  entrance  of  the  house.  Shortly  Count 
Morat  appeared,  and,  taking  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  hav 
ing  Mr.  Milton  on  his  left,  gave  directions  to  his  faithful 
Yonan,  who  was  seated  next  to  the  driver  and  they  drove 
towards  the  center  of  the  city.  They  passed  the  pretty 
Central  Park,  always  animated  by  the  recreation  seeking 
people,  and  reached  beautiful  Broadway,  the  most  attrac 
tive  thorou/ghfare  in  the  business  section.  Here,  admir 
ing  the  prevailing  artistic  architecture  of  the  several 
newly  constructed  buildings  in  shining  white  tile,  Mr. 
Milton  told  the  story  of  the  marvellous  growth  of  the 
city.  Listening  attentively  to  his  companion,  Count 
Morat  seemed  equally  interested  in  the  picturesqueness 


129 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


of  a  fashionable  public  then  on  the  wide  sidewalks,  for 
he  observed  that  the  picture  was  of  a  fascinating  quality. 
Thus  driving,  they  reached  the  historic  Plaza,  which  is 
simply  a  pretty  little  round  public  park.  "It  was  here," 
said  Mr.  Milton,  "that  on  September  4th,  1781,  the 
Spanish  Pueblo  bearing  the  titular  name  of  its  parochial 
church,  'Nuestra  Senora  Reina  de  Los  Angeles,'  (Our 
Lady  Queen  of  Angels)  was  founded  by  Spanish  soldiers 
who  came  from  the  San  Gabriel  mission,  under  the  pro 
tection  of  the  Spanish  governor;  and  it  is  from  this  or 
igin  that  the  present  city  derives  its  name,  using  only 
its  last  two  words.  But,  instead  of  becoming  the  center 
of  the  city  as  it  was  originally  intended,  the  Plaza,  with 
its  old  church,  remains  as  a  landmark  of  olden  times 
while  the  city  grew  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  south 
and  southwest.  Following-  Buena  Vista  street  they 
reached  Elysian  Park,  occupying  an  area  of  five  hundred 
acres,  spread  on  several  high  hills,  affording  a  most 
charming  view  of  the  city  and  its  surroundings.  The 
winding  wide  road  leading  through  the  park,  all  the 
while  encountering  new  landscapes  of  rich  and  varied 
flora,  produced  a  pleasing  impression;  but  shortly  Count 
Morat  was  delightfully  surprised  when  his  attention  was 
called  to  a  little  ranch  below  the  hill  where  they  were 
stopping.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  pigeons  of  vari 
ous  colors  flew  around  this  unique  ranch,  at  times  mak 
ing  it  impossible  to  see  the  roof  of  the  farm-house  which 
was  literally  covered  with  the  lively  birds.  "Certainly  a 
picture  worth  seeing,"  said  the  Count,  while  returning  to 
the  city.  On  their  way,  they  visited  the  Ostrich-farm, 
the  Indian-farm,  the  most  curious  collection  of  cacti  in 
the  East  Lake  Park,  and  several  other  typical  California 


130 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


places  of  interest.  Finally,  after  having  stopped  for 
luncheon  in  one  of  the  well  conducted  hostelries  located 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  they  drove  to  the  Westlake 
Park,  where  Count  Morat  dismissed  his  carriage,  an- 
nounciiig  his  intention  of  taking  a  walk  in  the  park  with 
Mr.  Milton.  The  Count  was  greatly  charmed  with  the 
artistic  landscape  of  the  park.  While  walking  leisurely 
around  the  lake  and  discussing  the  beauties  of  the  plants, 
and  the  great  variety  of  aquatic  birds  they  saw  there, 
they  were  pleasantly  surprised  by  meeting  Dr.  Ihringier, 
who  was  returning  from  one  of  his  professional  calls. 

"O  what  a  pleasure!  What  an  unexpected  meeting,'* 
exclaimed  Dr.  Ihringier,  shaking  hands  cordially.  "If 
human  will  has  anything  to  do  with  our  desires,  it  cer 
tainly  has  gratified  mine.  For  I  was  longing  to  see  you, 
dear  Count,  since  I  left  your  house  last  night,  or  rather 
this  morning;  so  much  so  that  I  could  hardly  sleep!" 

"I  suppose  a  sort  of  scientific  insomnia,"  said  Mr.  Mil- 
Ion,  taking  a  seat  on  an  unoccupied  bench  under  (he 
shade  of  a  splendidly  grown  palm  tree. 

"You  guessed  correctly,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier,  follow 
ing  Mr.  Milton's  example,  taking  a  seat  on  the  one  end 
of  the  bench.  Then  turning  to  the  Count,  who  sat  be 
tween  them,  he  said : 

"It  was  of  you,  dear  Count,  that  I  have  been  thinking 
all  this  time." 

"Of  me?"  inquired  Count  Morat,  laughing  heartily. 
"Were  I  a  woman  of  some  beauty,  I  might  have  reason 
to  feel  proud,  but,  as  it  is,  I  hardly  can  imagine  how  I 
could  disturb  your  night's  sleep." 

"Yet,  the  truth  is  that  you  were  the  object  of  my 
thoughts  during  my  morning  hours,"  answered  Dr. 


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THE    SEARCHERS. 


Ihringier.  "Let  me  tell  you,  in  short.  The  problem 
which  kept  me  busy  thinking  was  the  fact  that  I  could 
not  define  the  attitude  you  took  last  night  in  regard  to 
the  authority  of  science.  As  far  as  I  could  grasp  your 
way  of  thinking,  I  understood  that  you  were  in  perfect 
harmony  with  science  and  its  researches.  But,  when  you 
advanced  your  views  purporting  to  show  the  untenability 
of  the  assertions  made  by  science,  in  a  way  that  stood 
openly  in  opposition  to  self-evident  empirical  truths,  I 
was  nonplussed.  Your  statement  that  the  tenet  of  the 
dualistic  school  can  have  a  correct  interpretation  by  and 
through  empirical  knowledge,  puzzled  me  more  than  I 
can  tell.  Moreover,  when  I  began  to  consider  your  ad 
herence  to  the  fact,  so  eloquently  advanced  by  Mr.  Mil 
ton,  that  a  truth  cannot  exist  in  two  contradictory  asser 
tions  at  the  same  time,  on  the  same  subject,  without  los 
ing  its  value  of  veracity,  I  found  myself  at  a  loss,  not 
knowing  how  to  reconcile  your  attitude  with  the  above 
facts.  Facing  such  a  problem,  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  I  had  an  unsolvable  dilemma  before  me." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "It  must  have 
been  a  dilemma  to  you,  if  not  necessarily  unsolvable, 
quite  difficult  for  solution,  at  any  rate.  But  when  you 
consider  that  this  is  only  a  result  of  your  own  reasoning, 
you  can  easily  understand  that  you  are  a  victim  of  your 
own  defective  system  of  thinking.  To  rectify  this,  let 
me  help  you  in  a  bit  of  analyzing.  Before,  however,  I 
shall  proceed  with  that,  please  consider  that  the  able  dis 
sertation  of  Mr.  Milton  in  regard  to  the  impossibility 
of  the  existence  of  an  absolute  truth  as  a  knowable  thing, 
is  as  much  applicable  to  science  as  to  religious  beliefs 
In  other  words,  there  is  nothing  known  even  by  science 


132 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


which  can  represent  an  absolute  truth.  All  things,  or 
rather,  all  our  conceptions  of  things  are  often  times  mis 
leading  and  always  conditional.  The  truth  of  the  past  is 
often  a  mark  of  ignorance  in  the  future.  This  we  know 
by  looking  backward  in  the  gradual  progression  of  sci 
ence.  What  happened  in  the  past  will  and  must  happen 
in  the  future,  for  we  are  only  beginning  to  understand 
our  environment.  That  this  assumption  is  not  without  a 
basis,  even  the  great  monist,  whom  you  were  pleased  to 
quote  last  night,  recognizes  by  showing  the  necessity  of 
holding  the  known  scientific  truths  as  long  as  there  arc 
no  better  ones.  This  is  what  he  says : 

"  'The  theory  of  gravitation  in  astronomy  (Newton), 
the  nebular  theory  in  cosmogony  (Kant  and  Laplace), 
the  principle  of  energy  in  physics  (Meyer  and  Helrn- 
holtz),  the  atomic  theory  in  chemistry  (Dalton),  the 
vibratory  theory  in  optics  (Huyghens),  the  cellular  the 
ory  in  histology  (Schleiden  and  Schwann),  and  the  the 
ory  of  descent  in  biology  (Lamark  and  Darwin),  are  all 
important  theories  of  the  first  rank;  they  explain  a  whole 
world  of  natural  phenomena  by  the  assumption  of  a  com 
mon  cause  for  all  the  several  facts  of  their  respective 
provinces,  and  by  showing  that  all  the  phenomena  there 
of  are  inter-connected  and  controlled  by  laws  which  issue 
from  this  common  cause.  Yet,  the  cause  itself  may  re 
main  obscure  in  character,  or  be  merely  a  "provisional 
hypothesis."  The  "force  of  gravity"  in  the  theory  of 
gravitation  and  in  cosmogony,  "energy"  itself  in  its  rela 
tion  to  matter,  the  "ether"  of  optics  and  electricity,  the 
"atom"  of  the  chemist,  the  living  "protoplasm"  of  histol 
ogy,  the  "heredity"  of  the  evolutionist — these  and  similar 
conceptions  of  other  great  theories  may  be  regarded  by 


133 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


a  sceptical  philosophy  as  "mere  hypotheses"  and  the  out 
come  of  scientic  "faith,"  yet  they  are  indispensable  for 
us  until  they  are  replaced  by  better  hypotheses.' "(*) 
"According  to  the  above,  as  you  see,  although  the 
enumerated  scientific  sources  represent  an  indispensable 
quantum  for  us  today,  they  are  anything  but  absolute. 
They  may  be  recognized  as  mere  hypotheses  in  the  fu 
ture,  simply  by  the  new  discovery  of  some  law  govern 
ing  the  universe  or  some  portion  of  it  but  hitherto  un 
known  to  us.  It  happened  in  the  past  when  the  old  and 
exact  science  of  Chemistry  had  to  be  reconstructed  ow 
ing  to  the  new  chemical  law  of  the  'persistence  of  mat 
ter,'  which  was  detected  by  the  French  philosopher  La 
voisier  only  in  1789.  The  same  thing  happened  with 
the  science  of  physics,  which  found  for  its  present  basis 
the  new  law  of  the  'persistence  and  conservation  of  en 
ergy'  discovered  by  Mayer  only  in  1842.  I  repeat,  what 
happened  in  the  past  wall  happen  in  the  future.  This  be 
ing  the  case,  what  makes  you  think  that  your  knowledge 
of  today  is  such  an  imposing  and  positive  authority  that 
any  theory  or  any  advanced  fact  in  opposition  to  it  must 
be  necessarily  considered  erroneous?  The  cause  of  a 
dilemma  of  your  own  make  is  the  position  you  take  by 
claiming  absolutism  for  what  you  scientifically  know, 
and  this  is  a  mistake.  Taking  in  consideration  the  above 
quoted  statement,  you  must  bear  in  mind  that,  although 
science  explains  a  ivhole  world  of  natural  phenomena,  it 
has  not  found  as  yet  the  key  for  the  solution  of  all  phe 
nomena.  We  can,  and  we  should,  employ  the  known 
scientific  methods  in  our  researches,  but  it  does  not  fol 
low  that  we  cannot  employ  some  other  methods  un- 


(*)     E.   Haeckel.     The  Riddle.     Page  300. 

134 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


known  to  the  western  school  of  sciences  and  which  may 
give  us  equally  good  results.  Now  let  us  take  up  the 
dilemma  you  have  on  hand.  You  say  that  a  scientifically 
thinking  man,  which  in  your  language  would  mean  a 
man  who  thinks  the  way  monists  do,  cannot  admit  that 
the  dualistic  school  can  have  any  scientific  standing.  Am 
I  correct?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier.     "Is  not  that  logical?" 

"From  your  stand-point,  yes,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton; 
"provided,  assertions  made  by  your  school  are  correct. 
But  this  is  not  the  case,  as  you  know  from  the  analysis 
of  Count  Morat  clearly  shown  in  the  discussion  of  last 
night.  However,  in  order  to  proceed  intelligently,  let 
us  specify  the  main  question.  Now,  what  do  you  find 
objectionable  in  the  dualistic  teachings,  Doctor?" 

"Why,  of  course,  the  admission  of  dualism  in  all,  and 
especially  in  man,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier.  "We  will 
not  discuss  respecting  the  origin  of  the  Universe,  whether 
it  is  self-existent  self-created,  or  created  by  an  external 
agency.  This  is  a  subject  covering  a  wider  scope  than  I 
would  care  to  enter  into  now.  What  interests  me  the 
most  is,  man.  It  is  only  proper  that  we  should  start 
from  the  nearest  point  to  us." 

"Then  the  question  would  be  simply  this;  is  there  an 
immortal,  immaterial  soul  in  man?  Am  I  correct,  Doc 
tor?"  asked  Mr.  Milton, 

"Yes,"  replied  the  physician;  "and  if  there  is  one, 
what  scientific  proofs  can  support  such  an  assertion? 
For,  according  to  the  system  of  thinking  advanced  by 
the  Count,  I  expect  no  other  proofs  but  those  which  can 
stand  a  scientific  investigation." 

"That  is  only  proper,"  remarked  Count  Morat;  "for 


135 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


I  certainly  shall  not  use  any  but  those  arguments  which 
are  in  harmony  with  the  principles  of  science.  To  make 
it  stronger,  I  shall  use  exclusively  the  identical  words 
and  illustrations  of  men  of  science,  as  the  only  reliable 
source  for  our  purpose.  But,  before  I  touch  the  subject, 
I  must  call  your  attention  to  some  varieties  of  the  dualis- 
tic  teachings  now  in  existence.  Last  night,  while  Mr. 
Milton  was  defining  the  position  you  took  in  the  discus 
sion  and  that  of  Dr.  Darling,  he  said  that  the  reverend 
gentleman  represented  the  dualistic  school.  Now  in  de 
fending  the  dualistic  school,  or  rather,  if  I  have  to  fol 
low  your  wishes,  its  teachings  in  regard  to  the  existence 
of  the  human  soul,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  identified  with 
the  dualistic  teachings  represented  by  that  clergyman. 
For,  as  we  all  know,  he  knows  that  he  has  a  soul,  be 
cause  he  believes  that  he  has  one.  In  other  words,  his 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  the  soul  is  based  solely 
on  his  faith.  Such  an  argument  as  this  neither  one  of 
us  can  accept.  Besides,  the  process  connected  with  the 
existence  of  his  soul  is  of  such  crude  and  grotesque  con 
ception  that  by  no  means  can  it  have  any  connection  with 
the  real  conditions.  We  also  know  from  his  faith  and 
teachings  that  his  soul,  or  rather  his  whole  entity — soul 
and  body — was  created  when  he  was  conceived  by  his 
mother,  which  goes  to  show  that  he  is  a  new  creation; 
an  assertion  which,  according  to  a  rational  and  scientific 
reasoning,  is  absurd.  Who  does  not  know  the  fact  that 
there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun?  The  strictest  sci 
entific  investigations  show  that  there  is  no  new  matter 
coming  into  existence  under  any  form,  at  any  time.  All 
that  we  see,  whether  belonging  to  the  so-called  organic 
or  inorganic  matter,  has  been  in  existence  for  millions  of 


136 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


years  and  will  continue  to  exist  for  many  millions  to 
come.  The  only  process  that  takes  place  is  that  of  transi 
tion  from  one  into  another  form.  The  atoms  which  con 
stitute  the  substance  of  things  known  to  us  are  neither 
old  nor  young.  They  have  no  age.  They  are  always 
the  same.  Man  is  composed  of  atoms  which  have  been 
in  existence  long  before  he  was  born.  This  is  a  demon 
strated  and  well  known  fact.  This  being  the  case,  how 
can  we  reconcile  the  above  facts  with  the  teaching  that 
every  man  is  a  specially  created  entity?  In  order  to  es 
tablish  the  teaching  in  question,  we  must  show  the  work 
ings  of  such  creation  which  we  know  does  not  exist  and 
consequently  the  theory  has  no  standing  whatsoever. 
The  one  who  believes  in  that  theory,  should  he  be  a 
thinker,  finds  himself  in  a  quite  embarrassing  position. 
He  asks  himself,  why  is  he  living?  He  was  born  with 
out  his  knowledge  and  consent,  and  will  die  subject  to 
the  same  limitations;  and  why  so?  The  question  re 
mains  unanswered.  If  human  intellect  is  a  part  of  hu 
manity,  it  must  be  able  to  find  some  reasonable  solution 
in  things  belonging  to  humanity.  Why,  what  is  the  pur 
pose  of  this  life?  When  a  believer  is  troubled  with  such 
a  question,  the  spiritual  leader  under  whose  care  he  hap 
pens  to  be,  hastens  with  a  consoling  answer,  which 
sounds  like  this :  The  Almighty  created  you  to  obey  his 
commandments ;  when  this  is  done,  after  your  death,  you 
will  be  permitted  to  go  to  heaven.  To  the  question,  what 
will  he  be  doing  in  heaven,  the  answer  is  'nothing;'  or 
the  next  best  he  could  advise  you  would  be,  to  display 
your  musical  talents  there.  I  am  sure  Dr.  Darling  be 
lieves,  when  he  dies,  he  will  go  to  heaven  and  be  playing 
a  guitar  or  some  other  suitable  instrument  for  the  rest 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


of  eternity.  Now  let  us  look  into  this  second  phase  of 
a  believer's  existence.  No  matter  what  sort  of  life  he 
leads  in  his  terrestrial  abode  he  is  destined  to  suffer 
eternal  tortures.  If  he  has  been  a  rascal,  a  criminal,  he 
will  have  to  suffer  in  the  burning  fire  of  hell.  If  he  has 
been  an  honest  man,  he  is  destined  to  suffer  eternal  in 
activity  in  heaven.  The  conception  of  happiness  in  the 
Italian  'dolce  far  nicnte,'  the  sweet  idleness,  which  is  the 
only  promise  of  heaven,  is  a  strong  attraction  to  those 
who  are  still  living  in  their  animal  life.  But  humanity 
of  today  is  gradually  growing  out  of  that  stage.  Do  you 
think  you  will  find  an  intelligent  man  who  would  seek 
his  happiness  in  idleness?  The  worst  punishment  you 
can  invent  for  an  intelligent  entity  would  be  to  deprive 
him  of  his  activity.  Yet,  this  is  the  only  prospect  for 
an  honest  man  if  he  is  a  believer  in  the  dualistic  teach 
ings  represented  by  our  friend  Dr.  Darling.  A  dualistic 
teaching  such  as  this  can  be  accepted  only  by  those  who 
are  utterly  deprived  of  power  of  rational  thinking,  and 
this  is  not  the  dualistic  teaching  that  I  will  defend.  The 
one  I  profess,  starts  with  this :  I  believe  I  have  a  soul, 
because  I  know  I  have  one.  This  is  a  profession  of  what 
has  been,  and  can  be,  demonstrated  at  any  time.  The 
difference  between  what  I  defend  and  that  of  our  friend 
Dr.  Darling  is  in  this.  He  knows  that  he  has  a  soul,  be 
cause  he  believes;  I  believe  that  I  have  a  soul,  because  I 
know  I  have  one.  This  teaching  is  not  based  on  any 
belief;  for  there  is  no  place  for  believing.  This  is  a 
knowledge,  an  empirical  knowledge,  if  you  please,  and 
it  is  as  simple  and  as  comprehensive  as  the  formation 
and  the  disappearance  of  a  morning  dew.  Above  all  it 
is  true  to  the  laws  of  nature.  But,  unfortunately,  little 


138 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 

known  to  the  western  world.  However,  when  we  con 
sider  that  the  greater  number  of  souls  never  even  suspect 
their  own  existence,  the  matter  is  explained.  'Out  of  the 
fourteen  hundred  millions  of  human  beings  who  people 
the  earth,  ninety-nine-one-hundredths  do  not  think.  Great 
heavens !  What  would  they  do  with  immortality  ?  Think 
ing  souls  are  the  inheritance  of  the  intellectual  life, 
and  though  their  number  is  mighty  small,  they  preserve 
humanity's  patrimony,  and  increase  it  for  the  future.' 
But,  I  see,  I  am  advancing  my  views  too  rapidly.  I 
promised  to  deal  with  this  question  only  scientifically, 
and  this  is  what  I  intend  to  do.  In  the  first  place,  let  us 
investigate  the  appearance  of  man.  Let  us  see  of  what 
his  body  is  composed.  The  strictest  scientific  investiga 
tion  shows,  'that  an  average  adult  man  weighs  one  hun 
dred  and  forty  pounds.  Of  this  amount  there  are  nearly 
one  hundred  and  four  pounds  of  water  in  the  blood  and 
rlesh.  Analyze  the  substance  of  our  body  and  you  will 
find  albumen,  fibrine  caseine,  and  gelatine;  that  is,  or 
ganic  substances  composed  originally  of  the  four  essen 
tial  gases,  oxygen,  nitrogen,  hydrogen,  and  carbonic  acid. 
You  will  also  find  substances  with  no  nitrogen,  such  as 
gum,  sugar,  starch  and  fat.  These  matters  likewise  pass 
through  our  organism;  their  carbon  and  hydrogen  are 
consumed  by  the  oxygen  breathed  in  during  respiration, 
and  then  exhaled  under  the  form  of  carbonic  acid  and 
water.  Of  course  you  know  that  water  is  a  combination 
of  two  gases,  oxygen  and  hydrogen ;  the  air  is  a  mixture 
of  two  gases,  oxygen  and  nitrogen,  to  which  are  added 
in  lesser  proportions,  water  in  the  form  of  vapor,  which 
however  is  but  condensed  oxygen,  etc.  Thus  you  see  our 
body  is  composed  only  of  transformed  gases.'  Now,  be- 


139 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


fore  I  go  farther,  let  me  ask  you,  Doctor,  do  you  find 
this  to  be  correct?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier.  "The  scientific 
analysis  of  the  human  body  shows  exactly  what  you  say. 
But  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  part.  We  deal  with 
what  we  see;  the  visible  body  of  man,  as  such." 

"Exactly,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "But,  how  sadly 
we  are  deceived  by  appearances  of  the  visible,  only  those 
know  who  make  special  studies  of  these  subjects,  and 
they,  unfortunately,  are  very  few.  We  see  only  effects 
of  the  real,  and  think  it  to  be  all,  yet  that  is  not  the  case, 
for  the  real  is  the  invisible.  The  appearances  of  the 
movements  of  our  Sun  deceive  us.  If  we  would  believe 
what  we  see,  it  would  be  folly  to  admit  that  our  globe  is 
round,  and  still  greater  folly  to  assert  that  we  are  living 
on  a  whirling  projectile,  thrown  into  space  with  a  speed 
seventy-five  times  as  great  as  that  which  carries  a  can 
non-ball;  and  yet,  this  is  only  true.  We  delight  in  hear 
ing  harmonious  music,  pleasing  sounds  produced  by 
chimes  and  the  like.  If  we  would  believe  our  sensations, 
it  would  be  folly  to  admit  that  sound  does  not  exist ;  that 
it  is  only  an  impression  of  our  senses,  produced  by  vibra 
tions  of  a  certain  size  and  rapidity  on  the  air,  which  in 
themselves  have  no  sound ;  that,  take  away  from  the  man 
his  acoustic  nerve,  and  he  will  hear  nothing;  yet,  this 
is  only  true.  We  enjoy  looking  at  the  radiant  colors  of 
the  rainbow;  we  are  charmed  with  the  pretty  colors  of 
bright  flowers  which  represent  a  world  of  beauty  of  their 
own.  If  we  would  believe  what  we  see,  it  would  be 
folly  to  say  that  there  are  no  colors;  there  is  no  light; 
there  is  nothing  but  the  ether  waves,  which  cause  a  vibra 
tion  of  the  optic  nerve.  Yet,  this  is  only  true.  The  sun 


140 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


warms  and  fertilizes;  fire  burns.  This  is  what  we  sense 
and  know,  yet  actually  there  is  no  heat,  no  light,  for  this 
is  only  one  form  of  motion,  invisible  but  supreme  motion. 
We  see  a  strong-  iron  beam  used  in  the  construction  of 
a  building.  It  is  set  up  in,  space  twenty  or  more  feet 
high,  being  supported  only  by  its  two  ends  lying  on  the 
two  walls  separated  by  a  distance  of  another  twenty  feet. 
We  call  and  believe  that  iron  solid,  in  fact  the  most  solid 
thing  that  we  know  of.  It  stands  an  enormous  weight, 
so  that  a  level  hardly  can  find  a  depression  in  it ;  yet,  this 
iron  beam  is  composed  of  particles  which  do  not  touch 
each  other,  which  are  in  perpetual  vibration,  which  sep 
arate  under  the  influence  of  heat,  and  are  drawn  together 
by  cold.  Now  the  question  arises,  in  what  does  the  solid 
ity  of  this  bar  consist?  Knowing  that  its  particles  do 
not  touch  each  other  can  you  say  that  its  solidity  con 
sists  in  its  material  atoms?  No,  its  solidity  does  not  con 
sist  in  that  which  we  see ;  its  solidity  lies  in  the  invisible 
force.  Here  is  the  first  lesson  of  the  invisible  which  you 
do  not  realize,  yet  you  certainly  must  admit  its  exis 
tence,  for  it  is  there;  it  holds  the  atoms  together  to 
make  them  appear  to  your  senses  as  a  solid  thing.  You 
are  not  unaware  of  the  fact  that  strictly  speaking  there 
is  nothing  solid  that  we  know  of.  The  house,  furniture, 
carpets,  and  all  the  rest  we  see  and  recognize  as  solid 
things,  are  composed  of  particles  which  do  not  touch 
each  other,  but  are  in  constant  motion,  circulating  around 
each  other.  Similarly,  the  constituent  atoms  of  a  piece 
of  iron,  of  marble,  of  clay,  of  a  molecule  of  water,  or  of 
air,  of  oxygen  or  hydrogen,  are  not  soldered  solidly  to 
gether,  as  they  appear  to  be,  but  are  isolated,  separated, 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  planets,  the  worlds  of  the 


141 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Universe,  are  separated  the  one  from  the  other.  There 
is  nothing  absolutely  solid!  Thus,  you  mark  what  we 
see  is  deceitful.  The  real  is  the  invisible.  Do  you  find 
this  to  be  correct,  Doctor?" 

"Why,  yes,  provided  the  atomic  theory  is  correct," 
answered  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"What?  You  don't  mean  to  question  a  theory  which 
has  the  scientific  stamp,  do  you?  Don't  you  recognize 
the  atomic  theory  to  be  as  indispensable  for  us,  as  the 
rest  of  the  long  list  of  scientific  theories?"  inquired 
Count  Morat. 

"Undoubtedly  I  do,  but  what  I  want  to  say  is  simply 
this ;  that  I  never  saw  an  atom,"  remarked  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"Nevertheless  the  theory  has  a  scientific  standing," 
said  Count  Morat.  "Here  again  we  face  the  fact,  that 
we  want  to  be  guided  by  our  gross  senses.  The  more  we 
become  familiar  with  the  laws  of  nature,  the  more  we 
see  our  limitations.  That  we  do  not  see  a  multitude  of 
things,  does  not  follow  that  they  do  not  exist." 

"Yes,  we  have  to  admit  that,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier. 
somewhat  hesitatingly.  "But  to  what  does  that  lead  us?" 

"To  the  fact  that  what  we  see  is  not  the  real.  The 
real  is  the  invisible."  resumed  Count  Morat.  "Now  let 
us  come  back  to  our  main  subject,  namely,  the  human 
body.  Having  described  of  what  the  human  body  is 
composed,  which  of  course  can  be  verified  by  any  scien 
tist,  let  us  now  see  the  molecular  structure  of  it.  'The 
body  is  an  assemblage  of  molecules  formed  in  their 
turn  by  groups  of  atoms.  The  atoms  are  unchangeable 
and  indestructible.  They  enter  into  the  organism  by 
means  of  respiration  and  alimentation,  constantly  renew 
ing  the  tissues,  are  replaced  by  others,  and,  leaving  the 


142 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 

body  with  life,  go  to  form  other  bodies.  In  a  few 
months,  and  not  in  seven  years  as  was  formerly  thought, 
the  human  body  is  completely  renewed,  and  neither  in 
the  blood,  nor  in  the  flesh,  nor  in  the  brain,  nor  in  the 
bones,  does  there  remain  a  single  atom  of  those  that  con 
stituted  the  body  of  a  few  months  previously.  By  the 
great  medium  of  the  atmosphere  especially,  do  the  atoms 
pass  ceaselessly  from  one  body  to  another.  The  molecule 
of  iron  is  the  same  whether  it  is  incorporated  in  the 
blood  which  throbs  in  the  brain  of  a  man  of  genius,  or 
forms  part  of  a  worthless  fragment  of  rusty  iron.  The 
molecule  of  oxygen  is  the  same  whether  it  shines  in  the 
tender  glance  of  the  bride,  or  uniting  with  hydrogen, 
burns  in  one  of  the  innumerable  lights  that  are  used  in 
the  city  of  Los  Angeles  during  the  night,  or  descends  in 
a  rain  drop  from  the  bosom  of  the  clouds.  The  bodies 
now  living  are  formed  from  the  ashes  of  the  dead;  and 
even  during  life  an  interchange  of  atoms  takes  place  be 
tween  enemies  and  friends,  between  men,  animals  and 
plants,  which  would  startle  the  eye  that  could  perceive  it. 
Such  is  the  human  body,  an  assemblage  of  material 
molecules  the  atoms  of  which  do  not  touch  each  other 
and  which  are  constantly  being  renewed.'  From  this  de 
scription,  which  is  strictly  scientific,  we  must  come  to 
the  one  and  inevitable  conclusion  that  man,  is  composed 
of  two  distinct  bodies;  one  is  the  body  which  we  see,  and 
which  is  composed  principally  of  four  known  solidified 
essential  gases,  in  a  molecular  form,  and  the  other  is  the 
body  which  we  do  not  see,  and  which  is  composed  ex 
clusively  of  finer  matter  in  an  ethereal  form,  occupying 
its  place  between  the  atoms.  For  the  lack  of  a  better 
word,  I  am  using  ethereal,  simply  intending  to  say  that 


143 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


it  is  somewhat  similar  to  ether,  being  like  ether,  impon 
derable  with  a  consistency  which  is  neither  gaseous  nor 
fluid  nor  solid,  and  being  of  a  continuous  structure,  that 
is  to  say  not  atomistic,  not  made  up  of  separated  par 
ticles,  (atoms).  We  should  not  forget  that  the  atoms  do 
not  touch  each  other  and  that  the  space  between  atoms 
is  larger  than  the  atom  itself.  The  first,  known  as  a 
physical  body,  is  visible  to  anyone,  and  the  other,  which 
we  will  call  the  finer  body,  its  name  in  Sanskrit  being 
'linga-sarira,'  is  visible  only  to  some  people." 

"That  is  something  new,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Ihringier. 
"The  physical  body  described  by  you,  agrees  perfectly 
with  the  knowledge  at  our  disposal.  But  that  finer  body 
of  which  you  speak  is  entirely  new  to  science.  We  can 
not  admit  the  existence  of  a  thing  which  is  not  corrob 
orated  by  experimental  knowledge.  Whether  knowingly 
or  unknowingly,  certainly  you  are  shifting  from  the  sci 
entific  ground.  Besides,  what  has  that  finer  body,  as 
you  call  it,  to  do  with  the  body  of  atoms?" 

"To  keep  these  atoms  together  in  an  apparently  solid 
form,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "I  repeat  the  fact  that 
atoms  do  not  touch  each  other.  Have  you  ever  thought 
what  keeps  these  atoms  together?  You  will  say.  the 
molecular  attraction,  which  is  as  intelligible  as  other  sim 
ilar  scientific  formulas.  But  here  we  have  a  case  which 
does  not  need  to  be  clothed  with  any  mysterious  name. 
The  fact  is  that  the  space  between  the  atoms  is  occupied 
with  a  finer  matter  than  that  which  constitutes  the  sub 
stance  of  the  atoms.  You  cannot  deny  the  fact  that 
there  is  no  void  space  anywhere.  All  is  permeated  with 
the  eternally  vibrating  ether.  Hence,  can't  you  see  the 
simplicity  of  the  case,  that  the  space  between  the  atoms 


144 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 

indicates  the  presence  of  a  finer  substance  than  that  con 
stituting  atoms  ?  Now,  if  you  will  disband  the  material 
atoms,  can  you  avoid  the  inevitable  fact  that  there  will 
remain  a  body  which  has  a  perfect  continuous  structure 
and  represents  the  exact  size  and  form  of  the  body  which 
is  visible  to  us?  From  this  fact  you  must  come  to  the 
inevitable  conclusion,  that  it  is  this  finer  body  which 
holds  the  molecular  structure  together,  otherwise  the 
atoms  composing  the  physical  body  would  necessarily 
scatter  around,  and  there  would  be  no  visible  individuals. 
It  is  due  solely  to  the  peculiar  attributes  of  that  finer 
substance,  constituting  the  inner  body  so  wonderfully 
interwoven  with  the  physical,  that  we  can  see  the  high 
est  and  the  most  perfect  production  of  mammals.  Should 
you  succeed  in  removing  that  finer  body  you  will  succeed 
in  destroying  the  physical  body,  for,  the  moment  this 
happens,  the  molecules  with  their  atoms  will  start  their 
migration  instantly  and,  in  short,  there  will  be  nothing 
left  of  the  physical.  This  finer  body  of  man,  is  the  only 
power  which  keeps  molecules  together.  It  does  so  be 
cause  of  its  peculiar  forces.  Your  assertion  that  you  can 
not  admit  the  existence  of  a  thing  which  is  not  corrob 
orated  by  empirical  knowledge,  is  only  correct.  Besides 
the  fact,  that  we  know  scientifically  its  presence  in  the 
human  body  as  I  demonstrated,  we  know  also  by  the  ex 
perimental  knowledge  that  this  finer  body  when  it  leaves 
the  physical,  accomplishes  what  we  call  death ;  and  while 
the  physical  starts  its  gradual  disappearance,  the  finer 
body,  which  is  an  exact  counterpart  of  the  physical, 
carrying  in  itself  still  higher  principles  of  man,  continues 
to  live,  exactly  in  the  same  form  as  it  lived  in  the  physical 
body;  with  the  only  difference  that  being  imponderable 


145 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


it  ceases  to  be  subject  to  the  laws  of  gravitation  and 
other  laws  governing-  ponderable  matter.  As  such,  it 
has  been  seen  by  many  and  still  continues  to  be  seen  by 
thousands  and  thousands  of  living  people  of  our  days." 

"This  sounds  like  a  ghost  story,"  remarked  Dr.  Ihrin- 
gier,  somewhat  surprised.  "Are  you  really  serious  about 
what  you  say?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "You  may 
call  it  a  ghost  story,  as  others  do,  simply  because  the 
people  who  have  seen  this  finer  body  of  one  of  their  own, 
not  knowing  its  nature,  have  given  to  it  different  names, 
such  as  ghost,  ethereal  body,  fluidic  body,  the  double, 
the  wraith,  etc.  Now  let  us  reason.  If  people  really 
did  not  see  such  a  thing,  why  would  we  have  these 
names,  indicating  an  apparition  the  nature  of  which  was 
not  known  to  them?  The  fact  is  that  they  have  seen 
the  exact  counterpart  of  their  friends,  relations  or 
parents  so  vividly  that  they  could  not  help  recognizing 
them.  To  corroborate  this  we  have  a  mass  of  evidence 
from  the  testimony  of  distinguished  individuals  of  our 
own  times.  This  has  been  known  to  the  people  in  all 
ages,  and  has  given  rise  to  many  superstitions  and  mys 
teries,  owing  solely  to  the  lack  of  knowledge  of  its  nature. 
But  today  with  our  advanced  knowledge  of  nature  and 
its  laws  we  do  not  see  anything  unnatural  nor  mysterious 
about  it.  The  old  fashioned  cry  of  the  pseudo-scientists 
and  semi-naturalists  consisting  of  hallucination  and 
imagination  does  not  explain  anything.  If  any  explana 
tion  is  obtainable  at  all,  we  must  have  it  direct  from  the 
laws  of  nature.  But,  let  us  come  to  the  point.  In  order 
not  to  keep  you  any  longer  in  suspense,  let  me  tell  you 
at  once  what  I  have  been  aiming  at.  By  speaking  of  this 


146 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


finer  body,  I  wished  to  follow  the  natural  order  of  things, 
giving  you  one  by  one  the  seven  principles  of  which  man 
is  composed  and  which  are:  physical  body,  finer  body, 
vital  force,  instinctive  mind,  intellect,  spiritual  mind,  and 
the  last  and  highest,  which  animates  and  supports  all, 
Spirit  immortal,  immaterial.  This  is  of  what  man  is 
composed.  We  know  this  not  by  the  dictation  of  any 
creed  or  belief,  but  simply  by  empirical  knowledge.  How 
ever,  to  those  who  never  thought  of  the  complexity  of 
man's  entity,  this  might  seem  like  a  story  good  perhaps 
for  less  sophisticated  people.  Yet,  this  is  only  true,  and 
a  fact  which  can  be  verified  at  any  time  by  those  who  are 
interested  in  it." 

"This  fascinating  explanation  of  the  finer  body  in 
man,  given  in  such  a  tangible  way,  simply  astounds  me," 
said  Mr.  Milton.  "As  you  know,  I  have  been  following 
these  studies  with  you,  Count,  but  I  must  confess  I  never 
knew  of  the  presence  of  this  finer  body  in  the  way  you 
describe  it  now." 

"I  took  that  method  of  explaining  it  simply  because 
that  is  the  only  way  it  can  be  explained  when  you  start 
from  the  bottom,  that  is,  from  the  lowest  principle  of 
man,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "Besides,  this  method  of 
reasoning  is  a  necessity  when  you  deal  with  the  students 
of  the  western  school.  They  had  so  much  of  the  spirit 
ual  and  spirituality  in  all  possible  forms  and  shapes,  that 
they  resolved  to  keep  to  the  matter,  solid,  visible  and 
tangible.  They  are  not  to  be  blamed.  After  all  it  is 
only  natural  that  they  should  demand  such  an  argument 
as  would  satisfy  their  way  of  thinking.  Nevertheless 
the  fact  remains  that  it  is  I  who  possess  my  body  and  not 
my  body  that  possesses  me,  that  is,  my  soul." 


147 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"This  is  beginning  to  be  interesting-,"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Ihringier.  "I  am  quite  curious  to  know  how  you  are 
going  to  show  the  existence  of  an  immortal  soul  in  man." 

"To  show  the  existence  of  an  immortal  soul  in  man 
is  a  much  easier  task  for  me,  than  the  understanding  of 
it  for  you,"  replied  Count  Morat  thoughtfully.  "In  un 
dertaking  this,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  tell  you  what  and 
how  I  know  of  its  existence.  But  the  trouble  comes  with 
you  in  the  following;  i.  You  think  and  believe  that,  if 
there  is  any  knowledge  obtainable  at  all,  on  this  or  any 
other  subject,  it  must  come  only  from  those  sources 
which  are  known  to  you.  2.  You  think  and  believe  that 
the  information  furnished  by  science  known  to  you,  is  of 
such  a  commanding  character  and  contains  so  much  of 
that  stuff  which  you  call  scientific  truths,  that  any  at 
tempt  to  adopt  anything  that  might  in  any  way  contra 
dict  them,  would  be  a  tremendous  destruction  of  the 
established  logic  in  your  brain.  3.  You  think  and  believe 
that  any  serious  consideration  of  subjects  unknown  to 
the  scientists  representing  your  school,  would  be  detri 
mental  to  the  solidity  of  your  understanding.  These 
views  and  beliefs  force  you  to  ignore:  i.  That  empirical 
knowledge  is  not  only  that  one  which  is  acquired  by  the 
professors  of  the  western  scientific  creed.  2.  That  con 
clusions  made  by  one  set  of  scientists  do  not  represent 
anything  of  wider  scope  than  that  which  comprises  their 
personal  views,  and  which  necessarily  are  subject  to  ever- 
present  limitations,  nor  will  the  observations  of  others 
constitute  a  mistaken  opinion  because  not  agreeing  with 
the  first;  and  3.  That  there  are  thousands  of  things  not 
observed  by  the  scientists  of  the  west,  while  they  are 
well  known  to  those  of  the  east ;  and  the  empirical  knowl- 


148 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


edge  from  this  source  is  as  much  authoritative  as  any 
known  under  that  name." 

"In  other  words,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton,  "the  argu 
ment  must  stand  for  its  own  merit  regardless  of  the 
sources  from  where  it  came.  Is  that  it,  Count?" 

"Precisely,"  answered  the  Count.  "But  this  does  not 
mean  that  in  order  to  accept  one  you  destroy  the  other. 
There  are  scientific  principles  by  which  certainly  we 
ought  to  be  guided  in  our  researches,  but  by  no  means 
are  we  to  be  hampered  by  them  in  the  rational  solutions 
we  are  bound  to  make.  Science  of  the  past  as  well  as 
that  of  our  days  is  in  constant  researches  for  the  explana 
tions  of  those  few  natural  laws  which  are  somewhat 
known  to  us.  But  we  must  remember  that  what  science 
knows  today  is  equal  to  nothing  when  compared  with 
what  it  does  not  know.  Any  assertion  based  on  supposi 
tion  is  as  much  a  folly  as  a  denial  for  the  same  reason. 
That  some  of  the  western  scientists  are  bold  enough  to 
say  that  man  is  only  \vhat  they  see  in  him,  does  not 
mean  anything,  except  the  fact  that  they  exhibit  their 
limitations.  This  we  ought  not  to  take  seriously  nor 
much  less  be  guided  by  it.  Dr.  Ihringier  has  made  up 
his  scientific  mind  that  man  is  nothing  but  a  piece  of 
flesh,  such  as  he  sees  him.  This  knowledge  he  acquired 
during  many  years  of  tedious  studies,  all  that  time  his 
thinking  faculties  remaining  under  the  hammer  of  the 
monistic  school  he  adheres  to,  so  that,  finally  his  logic  has 
been  shaped  in  a  manner  where  nothing  else  seems  to 
be  admissible  except  what  comes  from  under  the  pres 
sure  of  that  same  hammer.  And  this  is  why  his  genial 
intellect  rebels  against  the  old  truth  that  man  has  an  im 
mortal  soul." 


149 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Count,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier,  somewhat  embarrassed, 
"your  remarks  are  strong  and  healthy.  I  must  acknowl 
edge,  that  you  have  described  the  conditions  of  my  think 
ing  power  very  accurately.  But  I  hope  you  will  also 
recognize  the  fact  that  this  same  procedure  takes  place 
in  all  directions  wherever  one  submits  himself  for  train 
ing,  and  for  this  very  reason  we  cannot  be  too  careful 
in  the  acceptance  of  such  truth  as  does  not  harmoni/e 
with  ours.  However,  let  us  come  to  the  point,  and  let 
us  have  your  views  upon  the  subject  before  us." 

"Willingly,"  said  Count  Morat.  "Having  described 
man's  physical  body  and  his  finer  body,  now  I  have  to 
take  up  the  next  higher  principle,  which  is  the  vital  force. 
Please  remember  that  this  vital  force  is  not  the  soul  or 
spirit  of  man,  as  monists  are  pleased  to  assert.  This 
vital  force  is  not  anything  stationary  in  man's  organism. 
It  has  its  origin  in  the  universal  vital  force  and  it  is  ob 
tained  by  man  through  his  breathing;  and  this  is  why 
human  life  is  absolutely  dependent  upon  breathing.  For 
breathing  is  the  life  itself.  As  you  know,  whether  in 
man,  in  animals  or  plants,  we  find  that  breathing  is  ab 
solutely  necessary  for  the  continuance  of  existence.  You 
can  live  for  some  time  without  eating  and  drinking,  but 
you  cannot  live  without  breathing.  From  the  moment 
man  is  conceived  by  his  mother,  to  the  moment  he  ex 
pires  his  last  breath,  his  life  is  one  continuous  breath 
ing.  Now  let  me  ask  you,  what  are  we  breathing?  Your 
answer  will  be  of  course,  that  we  are  breathing  air,  a 
mixture  of  two  gases — oxygen  and  nitrogen.  This  is  the 
only  information  we  can  get  from  the  westerners.  But 
this  is  not  satisfactory,  for  the  mixture  of  oxygen  and 
nitrogen  alone  has  not  the  necessary  qualities  to  animate 


150 


MORE     SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


matter.  From  the  eastern  philosophers  we  learn  of  the 
existence  of  a  universal  energy,  which  in  Sanskrit  is 
called  Prana.  This  is  the  main  basis  of  the  unity  of  the 
visible  nature,  for  although  not  matter,  meaning  atomic 
construction,  it  is  found  in  all  forms  of  matter,  and  this 
is  what  we  call  the  vital  force.  This  vital  force  is  found 
in  all  forms  of  life,  from  the  amoeba  to  man,  from  the 
most  elementary  form  of  plant  life  to  the  highest  form 
of  animal  life.  Although  strictly  speaking  there  is  noth 
ing  in  the  whole  universe  where  there  is  no  life.  We  affirm 
that  there  are  no  dead  atoms.  All  is  vibrating,  acting, 
and  this  is  life.  If  the  definition  of  organic  and  inor 
ganic  matter  is  to  indicate  the  presence  and  absence  of 
life  in  certain  matters,  it  is  an  erroneous  one.  Whether 
you  see  the  organ  or  not,  the  life  is  there,  for  each  atom 
of  matter  you  see  is  eternally  vibrating,  which  is  the 
only  characteristic  of  life.  There  is  nothing  dead  in 
the  universe.  All  is  alive.  This  is  the  vital  force.  Do 
you  find  it  admissible,  Doctor?" 

"Yes,  but  there  is  again  something  new,"  replied  Dr. 
Ihringier.  "We  know  that  we  are  breathing  air,  com 
posed  of  gases  as  you  said,  but,  that  vital  force  which  you 
claim  we  are  getting  through  our  breathing,  is  some 
thing  entirely  unknown  to  our  science." 

"That  is  it  exactly,"  remarked  Count  Morat.  "Un 
known  to  us,  therefore  does  not  exist!  That  is  just  what 
I  was  telling  you  about,  a  little  while  ago.  I  know,  it 
is  not  known  to  westerners,  but  I  also  know  that  it  is 
well  known  to  eastern  scientists.  The  oxygen  in  the 
air  plays  an  important  part  in  sustaining  animal  life,  and 
the  carbon  plays  a  similar  part  with  plant  life,  but  vital 
force  has  its  own  distinct  part  to  play  in  the  manifesta 


151 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


tion  of  life,  aside  from  the  physiological  functions. 
'Western  scientists  have  been  dimly  aware  of  this  great 
principle  with  which  the  air  is  charged/  says  an  eastern 
sage,  'but,  discovering  that  they  could  find  no  chemical 
trace  of  it,  or  make  it  register  on  any  of  their  instru 
ments,  they  have  generally  treated  the  oriental  theory 
with  disdain.  They  could  not  explain  this  principle,  and 
so  denied  it.  They  seem,  however,  to  recognize  that  the 
air  in  certain  places  possesses  a  greater  amount  of  "some 
thing,"  and  sick  people  are  directed  by  their  physicians 
to  seek  such  places  in  hopes  of  regaining  lost  health.' 
But,  I  am  entering  into  details  perhaps  too  much.  This 
is,  however,  to  make  my  subject  clear." 

"You  made  it  quite  clear,"  remarked  Dr.  Ihringier. 
"Will  you  proceed?" 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Count  Morat,  pleasantly.  "The 
next  higher  principle  is  instinctive  mind,  which  is  the 
lowest  of  the  four  mental  principles  of  man.  This  is  the 
first  step  of  mentation  reached  in  the  scale  of  evolution. 
These  four  principles,  namely ;  physical  body,  finer  body, 
vital  force,  and  instinctive  mind,  we  share  in  connection 
with  the  lower  animals.  If  you  will  analyze  them  care 
fully,  you  will  find  them  exactly  the  same  in  animals  as 
they  are  in  man.  The  activity  of  the  instinctive  mind  can 
be  observed  beginning  in  the  mineral  kingdom,  particu 
larly  in  crystals.  Then  we  see  it  in  a  more  advanced 
form  in  the  kingdom  of  plants.  Then  in  the  world  of 
the  lower  animals,  and  finally  we  see  its  working  in  man. 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  leader  of  the  monistic  school 
of  our  days  is  the  first  of  the  western  scientists  who  takes 
notice  of  this  principle,  for  he  says:  'In  my  opinion 
there  are  instincts  in  all  organisms — in  all  the  protists 


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MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


and  plants  as  well  as  in  all  the  animals  and  in  man; 
though  in  the  latter  they  tend  to  disappear  in  proportion 
as  reason  makes  progress  at  their  expense.'  (*)  This 
is  something  new  to  western  scholars,  but  not  so  to 
orientals  who  have  known  this  for  thousands  of  years. 
This  principle,  which  is  the  highest  in  the  animals  and 
the  lowest  in  the  intellectual  man,  makes  that  peculiar 
connecting  link  between  the  two  so  noticeable  to  every 
observer.  Is  it  necessary  that  I  should  give  you  pictures 
of  those  men  who  are  nearer  to  animals  than  to  intelli 
gent  men?  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there  is  a 
great  number  of  mankind  belonging  to  this  class.  We 
find  them  in  Africa,  Australasia,  but  sometimes  we  find 
them  even  in  Europe  and  America.  They  are  led  and 
governed  by  their  instinctive  mind,  in  most  cases  not 
being  able  to  give  any  account  of  their  acts  any  more 
than  the  wild  horses  or  domestic  cats.  I  shall  not  keep 
your  attention  longer  on  this  subject.  It  will  suffice  to 
remember  the  rule,  that  any  act  of  any  man  produced 
without  aforethought,  and  all  animal  acts  without  ex 
ception,  are  the  workings  of  this  instinctive  mind.  With 
this  we  end  the  highest  attribute  of  animals  and  begin 
the  lowest  one  in  the  intellectual  man.  The  next  prin 
ciple  in  man  is  the  intellect.  This  is  the  principle  which, 
when  developed  in  man,  makes  him  superior  to  the  ani 
mal.  That  there  is  in  man  such  a  thing  as  intellect  no 
one  will  deny.  But  we  must  remember  that  the  passing 
from  the  instinctive  mind  into  the  intellect  does  not  hap 
pen  in  any  abrupt  way.  The  transition  comes  gradually, 
until  the  difference  will  become  perceptible  in  the  fact 
that  one  governed  by  the  instinctive  mind  has  passions, 


(*)     E.  Haeckel.     The  Riddle.     Page  123. 

153 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


but  no  reason;  emotions,  but  no  intellect;  desires,  but 
no  rationalized  will.  With  the  development  of  this  prin 
ciple — intellect — man  unfolds  his  self-consciousness.  This 
self-consciousness  is  much  easier  to  comprehend  than  to 
define.  Without  it  one  may  know,  but  only  by  the  help 
of  that  self-consciousness  is  one  able  to  know  that  he 
knows.  Once  a  man  reaches  that  stage,  he  knows  that 
he  is  not  any  more  an  animal.  He  sees  and  feels  his  su 
periority. 

"The  next  higher  principle  in  man  is  the  spiritual  mind. 
Wishing  to  be  brief,  I  must  give  you  in  a  few  words  what 
this  principle  is.  All  that  we  consider  good,  great  and 
noble,  comes  from  this  principle.  Conceptions  such  as 
kindness,  love  for  humanity,  justice,  mercy,  sympathy, 
etc.,  are  the  product  of  this  spiritual  mind.  The  more 
this  principle  is  developed  in  man,  the  greater  are  his  acts. 
Poets,  great  leaders,  teachers,  and  men  of  science  find 
their  inspiration  in  this  principle,  which  makes  them  and 
all  of  us  nearer  by  one  step  to  the  understanding  of  the 
highest  principle  in  man,  which  is  spirit,  the  immortal, 
immaterial." 

"Ah,  spirit,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Ihringier,  passionately, 
"this  is  the  most  interesting  part.  I  am  all  listening." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "It  is  the  most 
interesting,  but  alas,  less  comprehensive,  except  to  those 
who  have  grown  to  the  corresponding  height.  You  must 
remember  that  our  race  is  now  living  in  the  age  of  in 
tellect.  Very  little,  if  any  at  all,  we  see  of  the  spirit 
uality.  But  I  suppose  you  are  not  after  that;  what  you 
want  is  the  definition.  Well,  in  order  to  express  myself 
in  an  intelligible  way  the  definition  will  be  that  the  soul 
or  spirit  is  an  immaterial,  immortal  and  highly  intelli- 


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MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


gent  entity  of  man.  This  soul  or  spirit  is  the  'Ego,'  the 
T  of  every  man.  Although  subject  to  higher  spiritual 
laws,  it  remains  entirely  free  from  the  subjection  to  the 
laws  governing  the  material,  visible  world.  Owing  to 
the  reasons  I  already  mentioned,  I  started  to  give  you  a 
picture  of  man's  entity,  beginning  from  the  lowest  prin 
ciple  he  possesses.  Now  that  we  have  reached  the  high 
est,  let  me  reverse  the  order  and  tell  you  this;  it  is  the 
soul  or  spirit  that  animates  man  through  its  vehicles. 
This  human  soul  expresses  itself  according  to  the  devel 
opments  of  his  lower  principles.  It  is  the  soul  which 
inspires  man ;  it  is  the  soul  which  puts  the  intellect  in  ac 
tivity.  It  is  the  soul  which  guides  him  in  his  lower  prin 
ciples.  If  there  were  no  soul,  there  would  be  no  human 
body." 

"This  is  all  well,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier,  critically.  "But 
what  I  want  to  know  is,  how  did  you  succeed  in  finding 
out  that  there  is  such  a  soul  or  spirit  in  man  ?" 

"You  are  still  led  by  your  monistic  views,"  began 
Count  Morat.  "I  don't  blame  you.  Were  you  able  to 
understand  me,  you  would  not  ask  such  a  question.  How 
ever,  in  order  to  help  you,  I  must  follow  your  mode  of 
thinking.  You  must  keep  in  your  mind  the  fact,  so 
clearly  demonstrated,  that  appearances  are  deceitful ;  that 
behind  matter,  there  is  immaterial  and  invisible  force 
which  is  holding  and  governing  all.  In  analyzing  man. 
we  have  found  the  same  order  of  things.  But,  notwith 
standing  this,  of  course  you  want  a  more  tangible  argu 
ment  to  show  that  the  soul  or  spirit  is  the  only  power 
which  is  in  man.  Very  well.  When  you  are  asked,  what 
is  it  in  man  that  produces  his  superior  qualities,  your 
answer  is,  that  it  is  the  brain — that  gray  matter,  which 


155 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


does  the  whole  thing  in  man.  It  is  the  brain  that  tells 
you  that  you  are  hungry,  tired,  restless.  It  is  the  brain 
that  tells  you,  you  must  love  your  children,  neighbors,  par 
ents  and  friends.  It  is  your  brain  that  tells  you  of  the 
grandeur  of  the  universe,  reveals  to  you  the  mathematical 
truths,  inspires  you  with  poetry,  forces  you  to  a  great 
sacrifice  of  your  interests  in  order  to  help  your  fellow- 
man.  In  short  all  your  acts  are  prompted  by  your  brain. 
Not  only  this,  but  this  same  brain  reminds  you  of  your 
promises,  contracts,  agreements,  obligations,  loves  and 
hatreds,  which  occurred  five,  twenty  and  fifty  years  ago. 
It  reminds  you  of  the  smallest  details  of  some  of  your 
acts  which  took  place  in  your  childhood,  while  a  young 
man,  and  finally,  while  in  mature  age.  Now  before  I  go 
any  farther  I  wish  to  hear  you.  Am  I  correctly  quoting 
your  opinion,  doctor?" 

"That  is  the  opinion  of  science,"  replied  Dr.  Ihringier, 
"consequently  mine  also.  It  is  a  self-evident  fact  that  all 
our  actions,  feelings,  conceptions,  whether  high  or  low, 
come  from  our  brain.  The  human  brain  is  the  central 
dynamo  which  produces  all." 

"Very  well,  then,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "If  that 
is  the  case,  will  you  tell  me,  how  can  your  brain  remind 
you  of  your  responsibilities  and  other  acts  of  many  years 
ago,  when  your  brain  does  not  exist  for  any  longer  period 
than  six  months  at  most?  It  is  a  fact  scientifically 
acknowledged  that  the  atoms  of  your  body  constantly 
change,  including  the  gray  mass  which  constitutes  your 
honorable  brain.  The  brain  you  have  today  in  your 
cranium  did  not  exist  six  months  ago.  How  can  that 
brain  know  and  tell  you  what  you  were  doing  twenty- 
five  years  ago?" 


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MORE    SCIENTIFIC     PROBLEMS. 

"Now  he's  got  you!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Milton,  joyously. 
"Now  he's  got  you!  You  are  caught  in  your  own  trap, 
my  dear  doctor !  The  blow  is  too  serious  to  be  ignored. 
I  am  afraid  this  is  the  final  stroke  to  your  whole  struc 
ture  of  the  most  exalted  modern  science." 

Dr.  Ihringier  seemed  to  be  somewhat  embarrased  and 
for  the  moment  had  no  answer  to  offer.  But  finally  he 
thought  he  had  found  one. 

"Why  that  is  memory,"  said  he  boldly. 

"Yes,  that  is  the  name  for  it.  But,  where  is  that 
memory  located?"  inquired  Count  Morat,  courteously. 
"You  say  that  the  brain  is  the  central  dynamo  which 
produces  all ;  therefore,  the  only  place  where  you  can 
locate  the  memory  the  same  as  all  other  similar  mani 
festations  of  man,  But,  since  your  brain  has  no  con 
tinuous  existence,  how  can  it  preserve  a  memory  of 
events  long  past?" 

"But  the  brain  does  not  change  at  once.  The  inter 
change  of  atoms  occurs  gradually,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier, 
nonchalantly. 

"I  suppose  it  is  like  the  United  States  Senate,"  joined 
Mr.  Milton.  "There  are  always  some  of  the  old  left, 
to  keep  up  the  traditions  of  the  house." 

"That  is  no  explanation,  my  dear  Doctor,"  said  Count 
Morat,  calmly.  "The  great  monist  of  today  in  his  very 
learned  dissertation,  beginning  with  the  Cellular  presen 
tation  (*)  and  ending  with  the  Cellular  and  Histionic 
memories,  tries  very  learnedly  to  show  the  origin  and 
gradual  development  of  the  memory  in  man.  But,  un 
fortunately,  weak  as  the  argument  runs  facing  the  strong 
theory  of  changeability  of  molecules  and  atoms,  it  en- 

(*)     E.  Haeckel.     The  Riddle.     Page  117-121. 

157 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


tirely  loses  its  force.  That  the  brain  is  the  only  seat 
where  all  our  momentary  sensations  are  centered,  we  do 
not  deny.  There  was  a  time  when  people,  including 
scientists,  believed  that  sensations  were  perceived  at  the 
very  point  where  they  were  felt.  A  pain  in  a  tooth  was 
located  in  the  tooth.  Even  today  a  majority  of  the  peo 
ple  believe  so.  Physiology,  however,  has  demonstrated, 
that  a  pain  felt  at  your  finger-tip,  is  sensed  by  you  only 
when  it  is  communicated  by  your  nervous  system  to  your 
brain.  If  you  remove  that  nerve,  there  will  be  no  feel 
ing  of  the  pain  in  your  finger.  You  can  cut  it  into  pieces 
or  burn  it,  without  suffering  any  inconvenience.  That 
is  what  we  know  and  believe  today.  Since  that  discovery 
we  refer  all  our  sensations  to  our  brain.  But,  unfor 
tunately  this  method  takes  us  only  half  way.  When  we 
consider  that  the  brain  itself  is  like  a  finger,  composed 
of  matter  which  is  not  constant,  which  is  changing  con 
tinually  and  rapidly,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  there 
is  in  man  something  more  essential  than  the  brain,  'A 
single  lobe,'  says  a  prominent  French  scientist,  'a  single 
cell,  a  single  molecule,  which  does  not  change,  does  not, 
and  could  not  exist  in  the  whole  mass  of  encephalic  mat 
ter.  A  stoppage  of  motion,  of  circulation,  or  of  trans 
formation,  would  be  a  death-warrant.  The  brain  sub 
sists  and  feels  only  on  condition  of  submitting  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  body,  to  the  incessant  transformations  of 
organic  matter  which  constitute  the  vital  circuit.'  From 
this  we  see  that  our  personality,  our  identity,  which  is 
continuous,  cannot  be  the  product  of  our  cerebral  struc 
ture  and  its  workings.  Our  individual  Ego,  which  ac 
quires  and  preserves  a  personal  scientific  and  moral  value, 


158 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC     PROBLEMS. 

or  unscientific  and  immoral,  as  the  case  may  be — the  Ego 
which  feels  the  responsibility  of  acts  accomplished  some 
months,  or  years  ago,  cannot  be  a  product  of  a  struc 
ture  which  constantly  changes  and  as  such  has  no  iden 
tity.  This  is  clear  and  in  harmony  with  the  principles 
of  logic.  You  can  not  deny  it.  Now  don't  you  see  that 
the  brain  is  not  what  science  claims  it  to  be?  No,  my 
dear  Doctor,  this  is  not  the  way  to  solve  the  mysteries 
of  life.  'We  have  to  go  back  to  the  song  of  the  swan 
of  Mantua;  "mens  agitat  molem."  Yes,  indeed,  it  is 
my  soul,  my  Ego,  which  gives  life  and  identity  to  my 
body,  and  not  my  brain.  The  brain,  as  you  said  correctly, 
is  the  central  dynamo  of  man's  activities;  but,  the  same 
as  your  hands,  feet,  eyes,  and  the  rest  of  your  body  owe 
obedience  to  the  supreme  command  of  your  Ego,  so  does 
your  brain.  But  again,  this  brain  becomes  a  fascinating 
power,  when  it  is  termed  by  the  monistic  school  as  the 
thinking  substance.  Undoubtedly  it  is  the  only  organ 
which  produces  thoughts,  which  in  their  turn  are  things 
which  have  forms  and  colors  indicating  their  grading 
in  merit  or  demerit;  but  the  brain  in  this  case  performs 
the  same  offices  as  it  does  in  communicating  to  you  your 
external  sensations;  for  though  the  brain  produces  the 
thoughts,  it  does  not  generate  them.  These  substances 
of  thoughts  are  mostly  expressions  of  acquired  ex 
periences  in  the  long,  long  past,  and  as  such  are  unknown 
to  your  brain,  which  is  simply  a  temporary  organ  of  a 
very  short  duration.  The  Ego,  which  is  the  only  pos 
sessor  of  these  experiences,  produces  them  according  to 
necessity  through  the  medium  of  your  brain  which,  in 
this  case,  the  same  as  in  all  the  rest,  is  nothing  but  a 
simple  machine,  similar  to  that  one  which  equally  well 


159 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


produces  the  electricity  without  creating  it.  Thus  we 
see  quite  clearly  that  your  terminology  of  soul-cells,  cell- 
souls,  germ-soul,  nerve-soul,  tissue-soul,  thinking  sub 
stance  and  the  rest,  are  terms  which  indicate  only  your 
great,  almost  superhuman  efforts,  to  find  the  main 
dynamo  in  man.  But,  as  you  see,  these  efforts  fail,  for 
they  are  unfit  for  the  purpose  intended.  The  invisible 
cannot  be  measured  by  the  visible,  the  immaterial  by  ma 
terial,  the  eternal  by  temporal.  By  using  these  terms,  I 
do  not  intend  to  say  that  we  are  dealing  with  anything 
supernatural,  for  there  is  no  such  a  thing  as  supernatural. 
All  things,  whether  known  and  visible  to  us,  or  other 
wise,  once  they  exist,  are  natural.  That  is  to  say,  they 
represent  some  portion  of  this  great  immeasurable  uni 
verse  of  which  we,  with  our  charming  little  planet,  are 
nothing  but  an  insignificant  bluish  spot,  lost  into  the 
myriads  of  great  suns  and  their  systems.  Now  let  me 
come  back  to  our  immediate  subject  and  conclude  that 
man  has  an  immortal,  immaterial  soul  which  cannot  be 
reached  by  the  methods  employed  in  the  western  scien 
tific  world.  As  I  said,  we  know  of  its  existence  by  em 
pirical  knowledge  but  not  of  that  kind  which  ends  its 
researches  where  the  gross  form  of  matter  disappears. 
The  empirical  knowledge  which  guides  us  is  of  a  supe 
rior  quality,  inasmuch  as  it  deals  with  much  finer  forces 
of  nature  than  those  accessible  to  an  average  student  of 
natural  sciences." 

Dr.  Ihringier  listened  to  the  above  very  attentively. 
The  deductions  made  by  Count  Morat  embodied  such 
powerful  logic  that  he  was  forced  to  silence.  The  great 
variety  of  thoughts  brought  up  in  such  a  fascinating  man 
ner,  full  of  rational  reasonings,  most  of  them  entirely  new 


160 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


to  him,  somewhat  depressed  his  inquisitive  mind.  He 
concluded  to  give  better  and  deeper  thoug-ht  to  this 
strange  philosophy  before  he  would  attack  it  again.  In 
the  meantime  some  pressing  questions  were  forcing  him 
to  a  new  inquiry.  Unable  to  silence  them,  he  turned  to 
the  Count,  saying: 

"Suppose  we  admit  the  existence  of  a  soul  in  man  such 
as  you  have  described.  What  I  am  curious  to  know  now 
is,  by  the  virtue  of  what  principle  do  you  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  human  soul  is  immortal?" 

"By  the  virtue  of  that  same  principle  which  makes  you 
accept  the  indestructibility  of  matter  and  conservation  of 
energy,"  replied  the  Count. 

"That  is  not  what  the  Doctor  is  after,"  remarked  Mr. 
Milton,  who  up  to  this  time  kept  silence  in  order  to 
give  ample  opportunity  for  the  full  play  of  the  philosophi 
cal  conclusions  of  the  Count.  "What  frightens  him  and 
his  friends  the  monists  is  that  big  word  immortality," 
resumed  Mr.  Milton.  "Permit  me  to  tell  you  a  little 
story,  Doctor.  The  Russian  yEsop,  Kryloff,  in  one  of 
his  fables  tells  us  the  story  of  a  man  who  went  to  see  the 
zoological  museum.  After  having  spent  a  couple  of 
hours  in  the  building,  he  met  one  of  his  friends  on  the 
street  who  begged  him  to  tell  what  he  saw  in  the  museum. 
The  man  began  to  enumerate  the  wonderful  things  he 
saw  there;  the  pretty  beetles,  cockroaches,  grasshoppers, 
bugs,  lice,  aphids  and  a  great  many  other  specimens  be 
longing  to  that  class.  The  inquirer  listened  patiently  to 
the  minute  description  of  those  insects,  and  finally  he 
asked :  'Did  you  see  the  elephant  there?'  'By  gosh/  ex 
claimed  the  admirer  of  natural  history,  'no,  I  did  not  see 
the  elephant.'  This  is  exactly  what  happens  with  the 


161 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


scientists  of  our  days.  They  spend  their  lives  in  this 
charming  museum  of  our  planet,  counting  the  four  thous 
and  varieties  of  ants.  Just  think  of  the  patience  of  the 
man  who  accomplishes  the  task !  They  search  and  know 
all  about  the  reptiles,  insects  and  all  sorts  of  animals. 
They  invent  all  kinds  of  magnifying  glasses,  in  order  to 
examine  and  see  the  smallest,  the  tiniest  conceivable  things 
in  nature.  But,  lo,  they  are  blind  to  the  greatest  truth 
nature  ever  demonstrated.  They  do  not  see — I  am  in 
clined  to  think  that  they  are  too  small  for  the  enter 
prise — the  big  elephants,  in  the  shape  of  the  human  soul 
and  its  immortality.  They  seem  to  be  too  timid  to  touch 
this  elephant,  although  they  have  had  some  training  in 
the  subject;  for  it  was  under  the  wise  guidance  of  the 
French  philosopher,  Lavoisier,  that  they  started  to  learn 
the  new  alphabet,  leading  to  the  lesson  that  all  matter  is 
immortal  in  the  sense  that  it  can  not  be  destroyed,  annihi 
lated.  Fortunately  they  learned  this  precious  lesson,  and 
today  they  all  cry  loudly  in  a  chorus,  matter  is  inde 
structible.  It  took  them  one  hundred  and  seventeen 
years  to  learn  this  one  lesson.  Another  philosopher  by 
the  name  of  Robert  Meyer,  a  Swabian  physician,  taught 
them  that  even  force  or  energy,  a  thing  invisible  to  our 
eyes,  has  its  own  immortality.  This  lesson  they  have 
been  learning  for  the  last  sixty-four  years.  After  these 
glorious  lessons,  which  taught  them  that  there  is  no  such 
a  thing  as  death,  meaning  destruction,  annihilation  or 
cessation  of  activity;  contrary,  that  there  is  nothing  but 
life,  continuous,  endless,  with  a  transition  from  one  into 
another  form,  that  is  picturesque  and  healthy ;  I  say,  after 
these  beautiful  lessons,  see  how  amusing  it  sounds  when 
you  hear  from  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  above  illustrious 


162 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


students,  this:  'When  the  brain  dies,  the  soul  comes  to 
an  end.'  (*)  Great  Scott!  comes  to  an  end,  means  that 
the  soul  ceases  to  exist.  How  can  we  harmonize  this 
with  the  above  mentioned  empirical  truths?  If  the  mat 
ter  and  energy  which  taken  together  represent  all  we 
know  and  see  on  our  planet,  in  fact  the  whole  universe, 
have  their  immortality  or  indestructibility,  if  you  choose, 
what  makes  these  scientists  assert  that  the  human  soul 
is  the  only  exception  to  this  great  law  governing  all? 
If  an  iron  atom,  which  is  a  very,  very  small  particle  of 
matter,  never  loses  its  identity,  indestructible  as  it  is,  re 
mains  the  same  whether  in  the  human  body  or  at  the  end 
of  a  rusty  shovel,  what  makes  it,  by  what  combination 
and  by  what  natural  law  does  it  happen,  that  the  human 
soul  is  deprived  of  this  same  privilege?  How  is  it  that 
those  men  so  strong  in  their  logic  when  they  want  to 
prove  their  theory,  commit  such  a  childish  inconsistency? 
Upon  mature  reflection  we  are  forced  to  see  the  cause 
of  it  in  their  desire  to  combat  the  dualism  such  as  pro 
fessed  by  the  existing  creeds.  But,  how  ridiculous  is  the 
stratagem  can  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  in  order  to  decapi 
tate  the  clumsy  dualism,  they  are  bombarding  the  im 
mortality  of  the  human  soul  at  the  expense  and  ridicule 
of  their  own  logic.  The  trouble  lies  in  the  fact  that  they 
associate  the  immortality  of  the  soul  with  the  worn  out 
dualistic  system.  The  theory  that  man  is  a  special  cre 
ation,  that  is  to  say,  that  each  man  has  been  specially 
created  for  the  purpose,  that  during  his  terrestrial  life 
he  should  read  the  Bible,  and,  after  his  death  should  go 
to  heaven  and  play  the  harp,  or  become  a  plaything  in 
the  hands  of  devils  whose  business  it  is  to  roast  any  and 


(*)     E.  Haeckel.     Last  words  on  evolution.     Page  144. 


1G3 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


all  who  do  not  read  the  Bible, — is  a  thing  which  does  not 
appeal  to  the  refined  senses  of  scientists.  I  do  not  blame 
them  for  such  a  rebellion;  but,  in  order  to  reject  these 
conceptions,  does  it  follow  that  they  should  refuse  to  ex 
tend  the  application  of  the  all  powerful  law  of  indestruct 
ibility  to  the  human  soul?  I  repeat,  if  all  things  con 
tinue  their  existence,  preserving  their  identity  now  for 
millions  of  years,  I  ask,  what  makes  you  think  that  the 
human  soul  does  not  do  likewise?  Here  probably  once 
more  you  would  say,  first  show  us  the  soul  such  as  you 
claim  it  to  be,  then  we  will  discuss  its  immortality.  O,  ye 
men  of  logic!  If  scientific  arguments  amount  to  any 
thing  Count  Morat  has  tangibly  demonstrated  that  physio 
logical  functions  which  are  produced  by  constantly  chang 
ing  matter  cannot  and  do  not  represent  the  human  soul, 
which  is  the  only  maker  of  the  identity  of  individuals 
That  consciousness  of  your  existence  which  is  so  clear  to 
you,  in  a  physical  body  representing  a  continuous  change 
of  your  whole  physical  structure,  does  not  it  clearly  indi 
cate  the  presence  of  a  soul  which  is  not  the  physiological 
function  of  man  as  monists  are  pleased  to  have  it  ?  But, 
of  course  you  want  to  have  this  soul  in  a  fashion  so  as 
to  get  hold  of  it  with  your  pinchers  and  say,  here  is  the 
casus  belli.  Is  it  not  curious  that  you  are  not  doing  the 
same  thing  with  electricity?  How  would  it  sound  to  you 
if  I  were  to  say,  we  do  not  know  the  nature  of  electricity, 
we  never  saw  it,  therefore  it  does  not  exist.  Our  capacity 
in  understanding  material  things  is  limited;  how  much 
more  must  it  be  for  things  immaterial  ?  We  do  not  know 
the  nature  of  many  things  whose  workings  are  so  bene 
ficial  to  us;  but  we  do  not  deny  their  existence,  simply 
because  we  see  them  in  their  application  to  matter.  Hu- 


164 


MORE    SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 

man  souls  are  growing  entities.  They  have  been  growing 
for  hundreds  of  thousands  of  years,  and  they  will  con 
tinue  to  grow  for  many  millions  to  come,  until  they  will 
out-grow  the  attractions  of  this  planet.  The  process 
through  which  the  human  soul  has  been  evolving  is  the 
same  today  as  it  was  in  the  past.  The  soul  being  im 
material— 

"Just  one  second,"  interrupted  Dr.  Ihringier.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  immaterial?  Will  you  tell  me?" 

"That  is  what  I  was  going  to  say,"  resumed  Mr. 
Milton.  "Immaterial  means  just  what  the  word  con 
veys,  that  is  to  say,  that  the  human  soul  is  not  composed 
of  matter  such  as  we  know  matter  to  be,  for  if  it  were  we 
would  be  able  to  ascertain  its  presence  by  the  means 
known  to  science.  All  we  are  able  to  judge  is,  that  its 
substance  is  much  superior  to  all  substances  known  to  us. 
This  we  know7  by  the  simple  fact  that  we  cannot  find 
anywhere,  anything  similar  to  it.  It  is  found  only  in 
man.  Not  being  of  atomic  construction,  it  cannot  de 
compose,  and  as  an  indivisible  entity  remains  the  same 
whether  within  the  physical  body  or  without  it.  This 
order  of  things  is  governed  by  a  similar  law  which  makes 
an  iron  atom  the  same  wherever  it  happens  to  be.  Iden 
tity  and  indestructibility,  which  indicates  continuity,  are 
the  indispensable  attributes  of  the  soul,  just  the  same  as 
those  of  an  iron  atom.  This  comparison  is  very  crude 
and  clumsy ,'but  owing  to  our  limitations,  we  use  it  as  the 
nearest  measure  for  our  comprehension.  The  only 
changes  to  which  human  souls  are  subjected  are  those 
which  follow  the  continually  evolving  experiences  ac 
quired  by  them.  This  inevitable  process  becomes  a  valu 
able  factor  in  the  advancement  of  the  human  soul  in  its 


165 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


further  profession  in  understanding  more  fully  the  laws 
governing-  the  universe.  Owing  to  the  acquisition  of  these 
qualities,  the  human  soul  progresses  now  more  rapidly 
than  it  did  in  the  long  past.  This  we  know  empirically. 
Humanity  of  today  is  much  better  in  every  respect  than 
ever  before  during  the  whole  period  of  the  duration  of 
our  race;  and  why?  Simply  because  it  has  been  always 
progressing.  By  this  progression  I  mean  the  intellectual 
evolution  in  man,  which  forces  us,  by  the  process  of  per 
sonal  experiences,  to  take  notice  of  the  laws  governing 
the  universe,  and  profit  by  it  in  utilizing  them  to  our  ad 
vantage.  This  progression  is  the  only  aim  of  humanity, 
always  has  been,  always  will  be.  Whether  knowingly  or 
unknowingly  each  individual  cultivates  it  to  the  utmost 
of  his  capacity.  Owing  to  this  existing  order  of  things, 
our  race  is  so  much  advanced  that  we  have  entirely  lost 
the  traces  of  the  primitive  man.  The  lowest  and  rough 
est  specimen  we  have  today  is  the  bushman  of  South  Af 
rica,  who  undoubtedly  represents  a  greatly  improved  spec 
imen  above  the  anthropoid  ape,  which  became  extinct  long 
long  ago.  When  we  compare  ourselves  with  the  still  ex 
isting  bushman,  we  discover  we  are  greatly  advanced  in 
all  respects.  Does  not  this  indicate  that  humanity  has 
been  continually  progressing?  We  are  in  perfect  accord 
with  science,  as  you  observe,  as  long  as  it  represents  em 
pirical  truths.  But  when  some  scientists,  in  order  to  an 
noy  some  representatives  of  the  western  dualistic  school, 
try  to  show  that  their  precious  old  boots  are  more  entitled 
to  immortality  than  their  own  souls,  we  cannot  help  con 
cluding  that  they  are  falsifying  the  principles  of  science." 
At  this  moment  a  pretty  swan,  proudly  promenading 
on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  approached  the  three  men  sit- 


166 


MORE     SCIENTIFIC    PROBLEMS. 


ting-  on  the  bench,  buried  in  their  thoughts,  and  de 
manded  their  attention.  This  aquatic  bird,  following  his 
daily  habits,  wanted  to  be  fed.  But  finding  no  encourage 
ment,  reluctantly  concluded  that  these  were  the  species 
of  humanity  which  surely  belonged  to  the  class  of  "rara 
avis,"  and  as  though  frightened  by  the  discovery,  turn 
ing  its  back,  sharply  rushed  to  the  lake.  Once  on  the 
water,  it  started  to  race  the  less  belligerent  birds,  scar 
ing  the  rest  of  the  peaceful  volatiles  in  the  neighborhood. 

This  incident  awakened  our  friends.  Dr.  Ihringier 
seemed  to  be  very  much  engaged  with  his  thoughts,  but 
consulting  his  watch,  he  remarked  that  it  was  time  for 
him  to  attend  one  of  his  cases. 

"I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "you  will  have  no  more 
scientific  insomnia,  Doctor." 

The  physician  looked  back  at  Mr.  Milton  reproach 
fully,  and,  waving  his  hand,  disappeared  among  the 
shady  palm  trees. 

"O  what  a  charming  day !"  said  Count  Morat,  follow 
ing  Mr.  Milton  to  his  house  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  with  him. 


167 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION 


Mr.  Milton  was  a  frequent  visitor  on  Adams  street. 
This  was  due  to  the  intimate  relations  which  existed  be 
tween  the  two  families.  The  friendship,  originated  dur 
ing  the  life  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston,  was  firmly  ce 
mented  by  their  death.  This  was  only  natural.  Mr. 
Gladston  was  an  old  customer  and  friend  of  Mr.  Milton's 
father.  Owing  to  his  constant  travels  abroad  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  have  a  banker  in  New  York  City, 
and  this  banker  was  Mr.  Oscar  Milton,  through  whose 
banking  establishment  he  transacted  all  his  financial  af 
fairs.  After  many  years  of  business  relations,  the  two 
men  became  good  friends,  and  whenever  Mr.  Gladston 
happened  to  be  in  New  York  City,  he  never  failed  to 
pay  a  friendly  visit  to  the  Milton  family.  This  is  how 
James  Milton  became  acquainted  with  him.  These  visits 
however  occurred  at  rare  intervals,  and  only  then,  when 
Mr.  Gladston  was  passing  through  the  city  either  going 
to  or  returning  from  Europe.  Knowing  that  Mr.  Glad 
ston  was  a  noted  archaeologist,  the  young  and  promising 


168 


A  kOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


student  of  law,  James  Milton,  being  in  love  with  all  that 
had  a  stamp  of  antiquity,  had  a  great  desire  to  cultivate 
a  closer  acquaintance  with  the  man  who  knew  so  much 
about  the  subject  which  interested  him  intensely ;  but,  un 
fortunately,  owing  to  Mr.  Gladston's  continuous  absence 
from  this  country,  he  never  had  an  opportunity  to  real 
ize  his  wishes.  Thus  years  rolled  on  and  events  followed 
events.  Owing  to  the  changes  which  occurred  during  the 
few  years  before  he  came  to  California,  Mr.  Milton  had 
heard  nothing  of  Mr.  Gladston.  All  he  knew  was,  that 
after  his  last  trip  to  Egypt,  whither  he  went  with  the 
same  mission  which  took  him  to  the  banks  of  the  river 
Tigris,  Mr.  Gladston  ceased  entirely  his  correspondence 
with  the  establishment  of  his  father.  Furthermore,  he 
knew  that  the  Gladston  family  lived  in  Richmond,  Vir 
ginia,  but  he  had  never  met  any  of  its  members.  These 
relations  of  old  standing  seemed  to  be  altogether  forgot 
ten,  when  an  unexpected  incident  brought  these  two  men 
into  a  closer  connection.  While  settled  in  Los  Angeles, 
Mr.  Milton  became  acquainted  with  a  few  literary  men, 
who  in  the  interest  of  science  were  trying  to  establish 
in  their  home  city  an  Archaeological  Society,  as  a 
branch  of  the  already  existing  Archaeological  Institute  of 
America,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  gather  and  preserve 
all  sorts  of  relics  of  the  past  in  order  to  promote  the 
highly  instructive  methods  of  that  branch  of  science.  It 
was  quite  an  undertaking,  and  judging  from  the  indif 
ference  displayed  by  the  general  public  at  the  beginning, 
it  was  not  encouraging.  But,  knowing  that  all  begin 
nings  usually  present  some  technical  difficulties,  the  men 
at  the  head  of  the  movement  were  not  to  be  deterred  by 
this,  and  they  went  on  with  an  unusual  energy  to  ac- 


169 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


complish  their  purpose.  In  order  to  interest  the  people, 
and  in  the  meantime  to  gather  necessary  funds,  they  con 
ceived  the  idea  of  giving  popular  lectures  on  Archaeology, 
and  for  this  purpose  they  engaged  professional  men.  In 
thus  beginning,  they  succeeded  exceedingly  well,  for  at 
the  time  of  writing  this,  the  city  of  Los  Angeles  is  quite 
proud  of  its  Southwest  Society,  which  is  formally  incor 
porated  as  a  branch  of  the  Archaeological  Institute  of 
America.  This  flourishing  institution,  with  its  miniature 
museum  and  bright  prospects  in  the  near  future  for  the 
establishment  and  maintenance  of  a  grand  museum,  is  to 
be  prominently  located  on  a  well  chosen  hill  within  the 
boundary  of  the  city.  To  one  of  these  lectures  Mr.  Mil 
ton  was  invited.  A  good  sized  hall  was  filled  with  the 
best  element  representing  the  inhabitants  of  the  city. 
When  the  presiding  officer  opened  the  meeting,  he 
announced  that  he  was  greatly  gratified  to  state,  that 
a  most  prominent  archaeologist  of  America  was  pres 
ent,  who  would  address  the  audience,  and  ended  by 
introducing  Mr.  Edward  B.  Gladston,  formerly  of 
Richmond,  Virginia,  and  now  a  resident  of  this  city. 
When  this  name  was  announced,  and  when  Mr.  Gladston 
appeared  on  the  stage  in  person,  one  can  easily  guess 
that  Mr.  Milton  did  not  fail  at  once  to  recognize  the  old 
friend  of  his  father.  Useless  to  say  that  he  listened  to 
the  lecturer  with  great  interest,  and  when  all  was  over, 
Mr.  Milton  was  the  first  to  shake  hands  with  him.  Mr. 
Gladston  was  so  pleased  in  thus  unexpectedly  meeting  Mr. 
Milton,  that  he  immediately  left  the  hall,  and  taking  Mr. 
Milton  with  him  to  his  club  house,  they  spent  a  couple 
of  hours  in  recalling  the  times  of  the  past  and  pleasant 
remembrances  connected  with  it.  On  this  occasion  they 


170 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 

both  learned  what  they  did  not    know    of    each    other's 
family. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Milton  paid  his  first  visit  to 
Mr.  Gladston,  on  Adams  street,  and  became  acquainted 
with  all  the  members  of  his  family.  At  about  this  time 
the  condition  of  Mr.  Gladston's  health  had  reached  the 
stage  which  was  not  a  precursor  of  good  tidings.  As  we 
already  know,  he  had  come  to  California  for  his  health. 
The  events  which  followed  proved  that  the  above  de 
scribed  lecture  was  the  occasion  of  his  last  appearance  in 
public,  for  after  that  night  he  was  forced  to  stay  in  his 
room,  eventually  not  to  appear  in  public  again.  This  de 
plorable  breaking  down  of  his  health  was  due  principally 
to  the  sad  experiences  to  which  he  was  subjected.  In 
these  days  of  gold  hunting,  when  by  some  miraculous  way 
millionaires  are  sprung  like  mushrooms  after  the  rainy 
season,  even  men  of  science  are  tempted  to  follow  the 
uncertain  and  oftentimes  dangerous  footsteps  of  fortune 
seekers.  This  was  exactly  the  case  with  Mr.  Gladston. 
He  became  interested  in  a  claim  of  a  gold  mine.  Believ 
ing  he  had  a  solid  undertaking  on  hand,  he  did  not  hesi 
tate  to  invest  heavily  in  the  proposition.  But  unfortu 
nately  it  became  known  to  some  of  the  share  holders  that 
the  title  of  the  property  held  by  them  was  defective,  and 
taking  advantage  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Gladston  knew 
nothing  about  it,  under  some  convenient  pretences  they 
sold  to  him  their  shares  in  order  to  save  their  own  inter 
ests.  Mr.  Gladston,  still  remaining  under  the  impression 
that  he  was  acquiring  a  fortune,  bought  these  shares,  in 
vesting  the  last  penny  he  had.  Thus  he  became  the 
owner  of  a  fourth  interest  in  the  undertaking,  but  alas, 
he  learned  at  last  that  he  had  been  chasing  a  wild  goose, 


171 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


for  he  had  bought  a  claim,  the  title  of  which  was  in  liti 
gation  with  a  neighboring  syndicate  of  mine  magnates. 
At  first  sight  this  meant  a  total  financial  wreck  for  Mr. 
Gladston.  To  fight  rich  men  nowadays  means  the  de 
struction  of  the  one  who  has  the  least  money  at  his  dis 
posal.  This  unexpected  and  awful  discovery  was  like  a 
thunder-clap,  which  crushed  all  the  vitality  that  re 
mained  in  the  otherwise  exhausted  organism  of  Mr.  Glad 
ston,  but  fortunately  for  him  just  about  this  time  he  met 
Mr.  Milton,  who  according  to  his  opinion  was  nothing 
less  than  a  God-sent  friend  in  times  of  distress.  Natural 
ly,  as  one  might  expect,  he  did  not  delay  presenting  his 
case  in  all  its  nakedness  to  Mr.  Milton,  asking  his  valu 
able  co-operation  in  the  matter. 

Upon  hearing  this  distressing  story  Mr.  Milton  was 
greatly  moved  by  the  helplessness  of  his  father's  friend, 
and  losing  no  time  he  immediately  started  for  Arizona, 
wrhere  the  mine  was  located,  in  Yuma  county.  After 
several  weeks  of  exhaustive  labors,  having  successfully 
accomplished  his  purpose,  Mr.  Milton  returned  to  Los 
Angeles.  Great  was  the  joy  on  Adams  street,  when  Mr. 
Milton  told  his  story,  consisting  of  the  fact  that  owing 
to  the  omission  of  properly  recording  certain  documents 
in  reference  to  the  conveyance  of  the  original  property, 
the  wide-a-wake  gold  hunters  of  the  neighborhood  had 
taken  advantage  of  this  fact,  hence  the  promotion  of  liti 
gation;  but  having  rectified  this  omission,  and  further 
more  having  ascertained  the  proper  value  of  the  property, 
Mr.  Milton  was  able  to  set  Mr.  Gladston's  claims  in  a 
shape  which  insured  his  ownership  of  the  mine,  and 
which  eventually  developed  into  one  of  the  most  profit 
able  undertakings.  This  was  an  unexpected  victory  for 


172 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


Mr.  Gladston.  "You  saved  me  and  my  family,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Gladston,  cordially  shaking  Mr.  Milton's 
friendly  hands.  But  this  joy  in  the  Gladston  family  was 
not  of  long  duration.  The  exhausted  and  shattered  or 
ganism  of  Mr.  Gladston  had  no  more  vitality  left.  Be 
ing  aware  of  this  fact,  he  dictated  to  Mr.  Milton  his  last 
will,  leaving  its  execution  entirely  to  him.  The  last  day 
of  his  life  he  spent  alone  with  his  wife  writing  a  certain 
document,  the  contents  of  which  were  known  to  no  one 
except  Mrs.  Gladston.  Thus  having  accomplished  what 
he  thought  his  sacred  duties,  he  died  in  peace  and  cer 
titude  that  his  family  would  not  be  subjected  to  any  ma 
terial  inconveniences.  A  few  years  after  this  event,  as  we 
already  know,  followed  the  lamented  death  of  Mrs.  Glad 
ston,  leaving  Miss  Virginia  at  the  head  of  the  family. 
From  the  above  narrative  we  see  how  unexpected  events 
had  placed  Mr.  Milton  in  a  position  which  by  the  lapse 
of  time  became  more  and  more  important.  The  heroic 
act  in  saving  the  vital  interests  of  the  Gladston  family, 
threw  on  him  a  halo  not  to  be  forgotten  soon.  These  re 
lations  prompted  him  to  visit  the  Gladston  family  as  often 
as  he  thought  would  be  admissible  under  such  circum 
stances.  As  we  already  know,  while  Mrs.  Pratt  as  an 
elderly  person  was  considered  by  the  outsiders  the  head 
of  the  family,  in  fact  it  was  Miss  Virginia  who  had  en 
tire  charge  of  family  affairs.  This  made  it  that  Mr. 
Milton  found  himself  very  frequently  in  her  company. 
At  first  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  enlighten  and  direct 
according  to  his  judgment,  this  young  girl,  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  world's  affairs  and  its  vicissitudes.  But 
gradually  he  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  there  was  no 
need  of  such  a  supervision.  For  he  discovered  that  Miss 


173 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Virginia,  although  young  and  inexperienced,  had  much 
of  that  common  sense  which  is  so  helpful  in  all  things 
pertaining  to  life.  Not  only  this,  but  he  also  learned  that 
there  were  things  in  which  the  good  judgment  of  Miss 
Virginia  was  much  superior  to  his  own.  This  was 
demonstrated  in  matters  pertaining  to  the  education  of 
her  brothers  and  little  sister.  She  knew  exactly  what 
direction  should  be  given  to  the  education  of  boys,  as 
well  as  the  training  she  thought  would  be  the  most  de 
sirable  for  the  little  sister.  These  matters,  although 
strictly  belonging  to  the  family,  were  discussed  before 
Mr.  Milton  in  order  to  obtain  his  views  as  of  a  man  who 
knew  life  and  its  requirements.  These  and  similar  other 
facts  showing  the  admirable  sagacity  of  Miss  Virginia. 
convinced  Mr.  Milton  of  her  ability  in  conducting  the  af 
fairs  of  her  family  so  well  that  he  was  forced  to  acknowl- 
adge  her  superior  qualities.  This  discovery  caused  Mr. 
Milton  to  be  guided  by  her  opinions  in  many  instances. 
However  these  relations  took  more  and  more  a  character 
which  could  not  be  termed  a  business  connection.  Miss 
Virginia  first  started  by  seeing  in  Mr.  Milton  a  good 
friend  of  her  family.  She  remembered  well  the  high  re 
gard  her  parents  had  for  him.  He  was  pointed  out  to 
her  as  a  young  man  of  unusual  ability  and  honesty.  This 
was  sufficient  to  make  her  place  her  whole  confidence  in 
him.  When  the  days  of  her  trial  came  it  was  Mr.  Mil 
ton  who  stood  by  her  side  ready  to  do  anything  in  his 
power  to  alleviate  the  burden  thrown  on  her  weak  shoul 
ders.  Above  all  she  remembered  well  the  time  while  the 
remains  of  her  mother  were  still  in  the  house,  during  the 
long  nights  most  of  which  she  spent  sitting  in  the  parlor, 
while  all  the  rest  of  her  friends,  tired  and  exhausted  by 


174 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


the  sleepless  nights,  had  retired,  it  was  Mr.  Milton  alone 
who  remained  to  watch  her.  During  one  of  these  nights, 
when  she  thought  she  was  alone  in  the  parlor,  she  ap 
proached  the  cold  body  of  her  mother,  to  kiss  her  lips  in 
a  fashion  that  was  customary  to  her,  but  when  she 
touched  the  deathly  cold  face,  as  though  for  the  first 
time  realizing  that  her  mother  was  dead,  her  knees 
trembled,  and  she  fell  unconscious  on  the  floor.  When 
she  opened  her  eyes,  she  met  those  of  Mr.  Milton,  who 
was  watching  her  and  had  caught  her  at  the  moment 
when  she  fainted,  and  having  carried  her  to  the  adjoining 
room  had  placed  her  on  a  sofa.  "O  how  good  he  was  to 
her,"  she  thought.  Nothing  can  strengthen  a  friendship 
between  two  persons  better  than  a  sympathy  shown  in 
moments  of  sorrow  and  suffering.  After  this  occurrence 
Miss  Virginia  looked  upon  Mr.  Milton  altogether  dif 
ferently.  He  was  no  more  simply  an  advisor  of  her  par 
ents  and  a  friend  of  her  family.  No,  he  was  more  than 
that ;  he  was  her  friend,  the  nearest  friend  she  ever  had  in 
her  life.  When  all  was  over  and  things  became  normal, 
every  appearance  of  Mr.  Milton  at  her  home  was  re 
garded  by  her  as  a  matter  of  course,  justly  and  rightly 
belonging  to  her  family  life.  Was  it  not  he  who  in  the 
moments  of  greatest  despair  saved  her  father  from  a 
total  financial  wreck?  Was  it  not  he,  who  after  her 
father's  death,  through  his  watchfulness,  helped  her 
mother  in  her  efforts  to  straighten  out  the  still  existing 
confusion  in  her  financial  affairs,  and  brought  them  to 
the  stage,  which  insured  a  steady  and  uniform  yielding? 
And  then,  when  there  was  no  father  and  no  mother,  how 
many  and  many  times  he  had  come  with  his  friendly  ad 
vice  to  help  her  in  moments  when  she  needed  it  the  most  ? 


175 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Besides,  after  the  death  of  her  mother,  when  her  soul  was 
awakened,  when,  although  a  girl  of  eighteen,  she  wanted 
to  probe  the  fathomless  mysteries  of  life,  she  wanted  to 
know  why,  why  her  mother  was  taken  away  from  her, 
yes,  she  wanted  to  know,  why  such  a  cruel  act,  which  de 
stroyed  the  happiness  of  her  home  life,  should  take  place. 
When  she  was  engaged  with  the  solution  of  these  prob 
lems  it  was  Mr.  Milton  who  came  with  his  consoling  ad 
vice.  He  taught  her  a  resignation  which  was  not  only 
deprived  of  humiliating  features,  but  had  a  strength  of 
its  own.  He  taught  her  how  to  look  soberly  upon  the 
things  which  seemed  to  her  so  cruel,  so  terrible.  In 
those  hours  of  desolation,  she  learned  so  much  from  him. 
It  was  then  that  for  the  first  time  her  soul  was  awakened 
to  the  fact  that  the  visible  world  was  not  the  last  expres 
sion  of  the  Universe.  Devoting  her  time  to  studies  she 
learned  that  she  could  not  be  always  guided  by  her  senses, 
which  were  as  defective  as  those  of  a  child.  Entering 
upon  this  new  stage  of  intellectual  life,  she  could  not  help 
seeing  in  Mr.  Milton  a  very  valuable  companion,  who 
never  failed  to  respond  with  genuine  willingness  in  guid 
ing  her  into  the  realm  of  the  newly  opened  field.  While 
these  relations  were  firmly  established,  the  law  of  attrac 
tion  having  laid  its  foundations,  began  its  legitimate 
work.  In  the  former  adviser  and  family  friend,  Miss 
Virginia  began  to  see  qualities  which  placed  him  far 
above  all  the  other  young  men  of  her  acquaintance.  This 
discovery  made  her  more  exacting  in  her  analysis  of 
things  pertaining  to  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Milton ;  and  the 
place  he  had  taken  in  her  thoughts  became  exceptional. 
As  the  time  went  on,  his  little  attentions  were  marked 
with  that  exquisite  delicacy,  which  is  noticeable  only  to 


176 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


the  refined  senses  of  a  well  cultured  young  girl,  as  she 
was,  and  soon  she  learned  to  see  in  him  all  she  could 
expect  in  a  man  of  her  choice.  Thus  gradually  she  be 
came  aware  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Milton's  gallant  services 
and  his  friendship  were  due  to  a  deeper  interest  than  that 
which  is  prompted  in  a  man  who  is  nothing  more  than  a 
simple  adviser  in  professional  matters.  It  is  true  Mr. 
Milton  never  spoke  to  her  in  terms  which  would  indicate 
that  he  wished  to  be  to  her  anything  more  than  a  good 
friend ;  nevertheless  she  could  guess  through  her  womanly 
senses  that  there  was  something  more  than  appearances 
could  suggest.  But,  notwithstanding  all  these  little  things 
tending  to  show  the  existing  tie,  Miss  Virginia  never  was 
anxious  to  know  anything  more  explicitly.  She  was  cer 
tain  and  positive  that  Mr.  Milton  nourished  for  her  a  feel 
ing  which  nothing  in  the  world  could  destroy,  and  that 
was  enough  for  her  to  know.  As  in  regfard  to  herself, 
she  knew  also  that  without  Mr.  Milton  she  would  feel  her 
orphanage  more  than  she  could  bear.  What  was  that 
feeling  she  had  for  Mr.  Milton?  She  did  not  know  the 
exact  name  of  it.  She  knew  this  much,  that  Mr.  Milton 
represented  all  the  best  and  noblest  qualities  she  could 
expect  to  find  in  a  man;  and  what  pleased  her  the  most 
was  that  Mr.  Milton  never  spoke  of  his  love  to  her.  His 
love  was  shown  unmistakably  in  all  things  he  did  for  her. 
In  every  act  of  his  there  was  indication  of  a  love,  which 
was  not  a  mere  passion,  which  in  its  calmness  and 
thoughtfulness  marked  its  merit  more  forcibly  than  words 
could  express,  and  this  made  her  happy.  She  dreaded  the 
moment  when  she  would  be  asked  to  discuss  the  matter 
in  more  definite  terms.  She  knew  that  it  was  inevitable 
that  some  day  this  was  bound  to  take  a  decisive  turn ;  but, 


177 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


as  long  as  this  would  not  take  place  immediately,  she  was 
satisfied.  The  cause  of  the  attitude  she  had  taken  was 
the  fact,  that  she  was  not  ready  for  any  change  in  her 
life,  for  very  important  reasons.  The  first  was  the  fact 
that  she  had  assumed  the  duties  of  a  mother  and  she  in 
tended  to  perform  them  faithfully  to  the  last  moment, 
namely,  to  the  time  when  her  two  brothers  and  the  little 
sister  had  reached  the  age  which  would  enable  them  to 
take  care  of  themselves.  The  second  and  the  most  im 
portant  fact  was  that  mysterious  letter  which  told  the  un 
certainty  of  her  birth.  How  could  she  consent  to  become 
a  life  companion  to  any  man,  and  especially  to  a  man 
whom  she  sincerely  admired,  when  she  did  not  know 
whose  child  she  was?  Had  Mr.  Milton  discovered  this, 
would  he  not  frown  on  the  thought  of  attempting  to 
marry  a  girl  of  an  unknown  origin,  a  foundling?  Nay, 
would  not  he  refuse  even  the  everyday  social  intercourse 
with  her  ?  Oh  what  a  terrible  thought !  According  to 
her  estimation,  if  there  were  no  other  impediment,  cer 
tainly  this  one  was  a  strong  barrier  which  forcibly  sep 
arated  her  from  all  the  world,  and  especially  from  the 
one  who  had  become  a  constant  subject  of  her  cherished 
thoughts.  This  apprehension  crushed  her  naturally  ex 
alted  and  proud  soul,  and  this  is  why  she  carefully  evaded 
all  possible  occasions  that  would  facilitate  the  develop 
ment  of  that  divine  spark,  which  though  gradually,  be 
came  the  sole  warming  element  of  her  virgin  heart  and 
her  whole  being.  While  Miss  Virginia  was  thus  care 
fully  trying  to  control  the  situation,  Mr.  Milton  was  steer 
ing  his  ship  to  the  land  of  hopes.  It  did  not  take  him 
long  to  know  the  main  magnet  which  attracted  him  to 
the  Gladston  family.  The  golden-haired  and  blue-eyed 


178 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


girl  had  made  an  indelible  impress  upon  him,  from  the 
moment  he  saw  her,  while  she  was  attending  her  school. 
He  had  a  rare  opportunity  to  study  the  exceptional  quali 
ties  of  the  girl,  whom  he  had  named  for  her  dignified 
manner  a  princess.  From  the  first,  when  he  became  ac 
quainted  with  the  Gladston  family,  he  noticed  the  great 
difference  that  existed  between  Miss  Virginia  and  the  rest 
of  the  family.  There  was  not  the  slightest  resemblance 
between  them.  In  appearance  Miss  Virginia  was  a  de 
cided  blonde,  with  light  blue  eyes,  while  the  rest  of  the 
family,  including  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston.  were  brunettes 
with  gray  eyes.  Often  his  thoughts  ran  on  the  subject 
as  to  why  one  child  should  be  so  different  from  the  rest 
of  the  family;  but  owing  to  his  keen  observations,  he 
knew  of  many  similar  cases,  and  consequently  did  not  at 
tach  any  importance  to  this  fact.  However,  when  he  be 
gan  to  observe  the  differences  in  characters,  he  found  no 
satisfactory  explanation.  What  principally  charmed  him 
was,  that  particular  trait  of  hers,  which  made  her  forget 
herself,  her  inclinations,  likings  and  dislikings,  in  order 
to  perform  faithfully  and  properly  the  assumed  role.  This 
was  so  unusual  and  so  striking,  especially  in  the  tender 
age  of  a  girl  of  her  growth,  that  he  could  not  help  ad 
miring  it.  When  he  first  learned  about  her  promise 
made  to  her  dying  mother,  he  thought  that  this  was  an 
eruption  of  the  feelings  of  a  young  girl,  who  gradually 
would  forget  her  moments  of  sorrow  and  distress,  and 
eventually  end  by  following  the  path  trodden  by  millions 
of  girls  of  her  age.  But  as  the  years  rolled  on  and  she 
grew  in  age  and  experience,  her  assumed  duties  became 
to  her  more  sacred  than  ever  before.  Observing  this,  Mr. 
Milton  could  not  help  concluding  that  this  was  an  excep- 


179 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


tional  case,  and  he  felt  proud  of  his  ward ;  for  did  not  the 
dying  father,  and  afterwards  the  dying  mother,  commend 
her  to  his  care?  But,  this  charming  ward,  this  enchant 
ing  princess,  deserved  all  that  he  could  give  her.  Yes, 
she  was  one  of  those  heavenly  fairies,  whom  all  the  world 
would  love  and  adore;  and  he  loved  her  with  the  might 
of  his  soul  and  heart.  Taking  advantage  of  the  position 
trusted  to  him  by  the  narrated  events,  he  spent  the  most 
delightful  hours  of  his  life  in  her  company.  He  always 
succeeded  in  finding  something  instructive  and  interest 
ing  to  discuss  with  her,  and  he  always  found  her  a  willing 
and  charmingly  docile  listener.  Very  often  while  her 
interest  was  aroused  in  the  discussion,  she  would  raise 
her  beautiful  head  to  ask  a  question.  On  those  occasions 
her  face  would  assume  an  expression  of  genuine  inno 
cence,  mingled  with  that  peculiar  air  of  curiosity  which 
is  so  noticeable  in  the  youth  of  her  age,  and  which  was 
perfectly  natural  to  her.  Looking  at  that  fascinating 
face,  those  blue  eyes  of  hers  would  seem  to  him  a  reflec 
tion  of  an  unfathomed  sea,  replete  with  riches  of  a  power 
fully  intelligent  and  noble  soul,  and  this  enrapturing  pic 
ture  would  invariably  force  Mr.  Milton  to  such  an  ad 
miration  that  he  would  forget  the  subject  on  hand  and 
the  question  would  remain  unanswered.  If  anything  im 
portant,  the  question  would  be  repeated,  and  the  desired 
answer  would  follow.  Mr.  Milton  did  not  belong  to  that 
class  of  men,  who,  with  their  sheepish  admiration  become 
a  willing  victim  of  feminine  charms.  Yet,  he  was  forced 
to  acknowledge  his  weakness — if  weakness  that  could  be 
called — that  in  the  presence  of  such  a  bewitching  vision 
as  Miss  Virginia  personated  he  was  a  happy  subject  to  a 
delightful  enchantment.  While  perfectly  aware  of  the 


180 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 

fact  that  he  was  irrevocably  in  love  with  Miss  Virginia, 
he  never  spoke  to  her  about  it,  for  he  thought  that  a 
sublime  sentiment  like  love  is,  does  not  need  to  be  ex 
pressed  in  words,  for  by  its  own  magic  power  it  pene 
trates  the  depths  of  soul  binding  two  hearts  in  one.  It 
was  an  exceedingly  interesting  study  for  him  to  observe 
day  after  day  the  evolving  changes  that  were  taking  place 
in  her  youthful  soul.  From  a  happy  girl  that  she  was  be 
fore  the  death  of  her  mother,  she  was  abruptly  trans 
formed  into  a  maiden  of  mature  age,  fully  cognizant  of 
the  responsibilities  and  burdens  of  life.  Absorbed  in  her 
self-imposed  duties,  she  knew  how  to  control  and  subju 
gate  her  most  cherished  wishes,  her  sole  ambition  being 
the  accomplishment  of  the  undertaking  she  had  conscious 
ly  chosen  for  the  aim  of  her  life.  Perfectly  mindful  of 
the  ambitions  which  animated  her  soul,  could  he,  without 
offending  his  own  feelings,  disturb  the  order  of  things 
established  by  her  express  wishes?  Would  it  not  be  a 
crime  to  interfere  with  the  course  she  had  taken  ?  Having 
this  in  view,  he  had  decided  to  await  a  more  opportune 
time.  Then  the  incident  of  the  discovery  of  her  father's 
letter  took  place,  and  another  and  more  radical  change 
followed.  She  became  sad,  and  taciturn,  betraying  a  pe 
culiar  desire  for  solitude.  She  seemed  to  be  displeased 
with  everybody,  with  the  whole  world.  Always  pleased 
to  see  Mr.  Milton,  now  she  tried  to  avoid  him.  What 
was  the  cause  of  such  a  sudden  change  ?  Was  she  in  love 
with  somebody  else  and  wished  to  avoid  him?  A  mature 
reflection  brought  him  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  not 
the  case.  Miss  Virginia  was  not  in  love  with  anyone  else. 
It  is  true,  that  there  were  several  young  men  who  under 
different  pretences  frequently  visited  her  home,  especially 


181 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


one  Montgomery,  well  known  about  the  town,  who  being 
of  an  antediluvian  type,  was  not  able  to  control  his  at 
traction  to  Miss  Virginia,  and  boldly  made  advances  in 
his  grotesque  way.  But,  knowing  well  the  exquisitely 
cultured  mind  of  Miss  Virginia,  he  had  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  none  of  those  could  attract  her.  Especially 
there  was  no  danger  of  Mr.  Montgomery's  success.  He 
was  a  sort  of  a  buffoon,  who  at  any  rate  could  be  some 
times  amusing  to  her.  But,  then,  what  was  the  cause  of 
her  peculiar  tactics  which  unmistakably  indicated  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  see  him  as  often  as  in  former  clays?  He 
had  no  answer  to  this.  Howrever  this  unexpected  and  un- 
explainable  change  in  Miss  Virginia  did  not  discourage 
him.  He  loved  her  just  the  same;  even  her  sadness, 
though  it  broke  his  heart,  was  a  picture  worthy  of  ad 
miration,  and  now  if  he  had  any  particular  desire,  it  was 
to  see  her  the  way  she  wished  to  be  seen.  These  were  the 
existing  relations  between  Miss  Virginia  and  Mr.  Mil 
ton.  To  a  practical  observer  it  is  clear,  that  they  admired 
and  loved  each  other  with  the  might  of  their  souls,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  that  fatal  letter,  the  existing  relations 
would  have  taken  a  more  decisive  turn. 

One  morning  Mr.  Milton  went  to  call  on  one  of  his  cli 
ents  in  Chester  Place,  on  business  matters.  After  he  had 
finished  his  errand,  instead  of  going  to  Twenty-third 
street  to  take  his  car,  he  went  in  the  opposite  direction 
and  found  himself  on  Adams  street.  Buried  in  his 
thoughts  he  walked  slowly  along  the  sidewalk.  Shortly 
he  found  himself  facing  the  Gladston  home.  When  he 
turned  his  head  in  that  direction,  he  saw  Miss  Virginia 
on  the  grounds.  She  had  a  pretty  little  basket  in  one 
hand,  and  in  the  other  a  pair  of  pruning  shears.  She  was 


182 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 

picking  roses.  She  had  quite  a  variety  of  them  in  her 
basket. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  di 
recting  his  steps  towards  her,  and  raising  his  hat. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Milton,"  answered  Miss  Virginia. 
"Is  not  this  rather  unusual,  to  see  you  here  during  the 
morning  hours?"  inquired  she,  wistfully. 

"Well,  somewhat,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "I  came  on  a 
business  matter  to  see  one  of  my  clients  in  this  neighbor 
hood,  and  while  here  I  turned  this  way  to  say  good  morn 
ing.  How  charming,  to  find  you  at  your  delightful  occu 
pation,  picking  your  favorite  flowers.  Oh,  but  these 
roses  look  so  pretty  this  morning." 

"Yes,  they  are  pretty,  as  usual,  but — 

"But  what?"  inquired  Mr.  Milton,  examining  the  con 
tents  of  her  basket. 

"But  they  have  their  thorns,  just  the  same,"  answered 
she,  putting  a  Crimson  Rambler  in  her  basket. 

"It  is  a  good  thing  they  have  thorns.  They  are  dan 
gerous  only  to  those  who  do  not  know  how  to  handle  the 
pretty  roses,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton,  smiling  pleasantly. 

"That  is  true,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  "but  how  few  are 
those  who  know  how  to  gain  that  immunity.  Moreover, 
the  matter  must  be  considered  on  both  sides.  The  avoid 
ing  of  the  unpleasant  with  the  thorns  might  give  pleasure 
to  those  who  handle  them,  but  that  does  not  insure  the 
safety  of  the  roses.  You  know  they  are  so  sensitive  to 
surroundings.  They  need  good  care  in  order  to  preserve 
their  freshness.  The  selfish  motive  is  not  the  best  guar 
antee,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"Quite  true,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton.  "But  that  selfish 
motive  becomes  a  virtue,  when  one  loves  roses  as  they 


183 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


are  with  their  thorns  the  way  you  do.  You  don't  seem 
to  be  afraid  of  them,  are  you?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  looking  at  her  basket 
full  of  roses.  "But  now  I  want  to  put  them  in  the  vase, 
won't  you  come  in?" 

Saying  this  she  walked  towards  the  house,  Mr.  Milton 
following  her.  When  they  entered  the  library,  Miss  Vir 
ginia  put  her  basket  on  the  table  and  began  arranging 
her  bouquet. 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid  of  thorns,"  resumed  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  putting  the  roses  in  the  vase  standing  on  the  table, 
"for  I  have  learned  that  life  is  full  of  them,  and  I  am  be 
ginning  to  be  accustomed  to  them." 

"You  are  speaking  now  like  a  person  who  knows  much 
about  life  and  the  thorns  which  pave  its  paths,"  said  Mr. 
Milton,  removing  the  empty  basket  from  the  table.  "But 
while  in  the  principle  you  are  correct,  I  don't  see  how  that 
can  be  applied  to  you." 

"It  is  because  you  don't  see  them  in  my  life  as  I  do," 
said  Miss  Virginia  quietly.  "You  are  accustomed  to  see 
ing  everything  around  me  in  rosy  colors.  But — 

"Not  always,"  interrupted  Mr.  Milton.  "I  have  seen 
you  many  and  many  times  very  sad  and  desolate,  and 
while  I  knew  that  there  was  something  terrible  which  tor 
tured  you.,  notwithstanding  all  my  efforts,  so  far,  I  never 
succeeded  in  gaining  your  confidence  on  that  subject.  But 
now  that  we  are  alone,  and  I  have  this  opportunity,  will 
you  permit  me  to  be  frank,  and  tell  you  something?  Will 
you  listen?" 

"You  know,  Mr.  Milton,  you  don't  need  such  an  in 
troduction  in  order  to  speak  to  me,"  said  Miss  Virginia. 
"But  I  suppose  it  is  because  you  have  assumed  lately  a 


184 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


very  formal  attitude  towards  me.  I  don't  like  that,  but 
of  course  I  have  no  special  privileges  upon  your  atten 
tion,  have  I  ?" 

"Do  you  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  reproachfully. 
"But  let  me  depict  to  you  the  sad  vision  I  have  been  con 
templating  during  the  last  few  years.  You  remember 
that  beautiful  summer  morning  on  the  veranda  while 
still  under  the  gloomy  shadows  of  your  mother's  death 
you  said  to  me  that  you  had  all  confidence  in  me,  and 
you  wished  me  under  the  penalty  of  your  displeasure  to 
be  frank  with  you  and  always  tell  you,  no  matter  how 
bitter  the  truth,  if  I  thought  it  was  for  your  benefit?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  could  not  forget  that,  for  I  still  think 
the  same  way,  and  that  is  what  makes  me  suffer,  for  you 
have  not  been  to  me  what  you  then  promised  to  be." 

"Pardon  me,"  resumed  Mr.  Milton,  "but  you  are  mis 
judging  my  conduct.  How  could  I  tell  you  what  was 
best  for  you,  when  you  would  not  tell  me  what  was  the 
cause  of  your  sufferings  ?  That  I  could  not  continue  the 
delightful  converse  with  you  was  at  your  own  bidding. 
Nothing  can  efface  from  my  memory  those  sad  days 
when  I  had  to  witness  your  deep  sorrows  which  followed 
the  death  of  your  good  mother.  But  after  awhile,  when 
the  grief  had  subsided,  thanks  to  your  good  judgment, 
and  when  your  life  began  to  be  a  series  of  joys  and  com 
plete  satisfaction  over  your  assumed  duties,  and  when 
everything  seemed  to  be  as  encouraging  as  one  could  ex 
pect  under  the  circumstances,  that  fatal  day  came,  which 
was  the  beginning  of  the  saddest  part  of  your  life  and 
mine  also.  I  never  can  forget  that  afternoon  when  I  was 
listening  to  Camille  in  the  parlor  and  you  came  in.  You 
called  my  attention  to  the  picture  of  your  father,  telling 


185 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


me  that  soon  you  would  have  a  similar  one  of  your 
mother,  for  you  had  learned  from  your  aunt  that  you 
could  have  such  a  one.  I  rejoiced  then  knowing  that 
such  an  acquisition  would  give  you  immense  satisfac 
tion,  and  you  added  that  on  the  following  day  you  would 
show  me  the  original  picture  from  which  you  intended  to 
have  one  enlarged.  I  went  home  perfectly  delighted  in 
witnessing  your  joy.  Next  day,  O  what  a  fatal  day! 
When  I  came  to  your  house,  Corinne  told  me  that  you 
were  very  ill,  so  ill  that  you  had  to  stay  in  your  bed.  Af 
ter  that  I  came  every  day  to  inquire  about  you,  and  not 
before  ten  days  had  elapsed  I  saw  you  in  the  parlor. 
Pale  and  exhausted  as  you  were,  you  could  not  converse 
with  me,  and  I  departed  in  an  exasperated  spirit.  I 
waited  patiently  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  but  alas, 
I  never  saw  you  such  as  you  were  before  that  fatal  day. 
Between  then  and  now  a  number  of  years  have  passed. 
During  all  this  time,  which  seemed  to  me  eternity,  you 
were  sad  and  desolate.  You  avoided  everybody,  and 
amongst  them  me.  With  your  conduct  you  unmistakably 
indicated  that  you  did  not  wish  to  see  me.  What  had  I 
to  do?  Could  I  force  myself  upon  your  attention?  I 
never  had  an  opportunity  to  tell  you,  dear  girl,  how  much 
I  suffered  during  that  time.  I  tried  my  best  to  unearth 
the  causes  of  your  sudden  change,  of  your  sadness,  of 
your  cruel  distress,  but  alas,  all  was  in  vain.  All  was  and 
still  remains  a  mystery  to  me.  Had  I  known  what  caused 
you  all  these  sufferings  during  these  long  years,  I  would 
have  given  all,  nay,  even  my  life,  to  save  you  from  the 
pangs  of  this  devouring  monster,  but  a  thousand  times, 
alas,  it  all  remains  to  me  a  Sphinx  of  unfathomed  enigma. 
If  you  remember,  I  asked  you,  I  implored  you,  to  tell  me 


186 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


the  cause  of  your  distress,  which  devoured  your  little 
heart,  but  unfortunately  I  never  succeeded  in  obtaining 
from  you  a  satisfactory  answer.  Have  I  ever  displeased 
you,  dear  Miss  Virginia?  Have  I  ever  merited  such  a 
mistrust  from  you,  as  you  have  been  displaying  towards 
me  during  the  last  few  years?  Tell  me  now,  was  it  I 
who  did  not  keep  my  promise  to  you?  If  I  am  to  be 
blamed,  tell  me  now." 

Listening  to  what  Mr.  Milton  said,  Miss  Virginia  en 
dured  an  untold  grief.  She  well  knew  that  it  was  not 
he  who  should  be  blamed;  but  could  she  tell  him  the  real 
cause  of  her  own  conduct?  Should  she  try  to  justify 
herself  she  would  have  to  tell  the  whole  story,  yes,  she 
would  have  to  tell  the  events  of  that  memorable  night 
when  she  found  that  ominous  letter.  Whether  its  con 
tents  revealed  truth  or  not,  its  discovery  certainly  was  the 
cause  of  her  sudden  change,  which  made  her  pass  from 
a  life  of  contentment  and  hopeful  future,  into  that  of 
despair,  discouragement  and  hopelessness.  Certainly  she 
could  not  mention  all  these.  But  having  given  cause  to 
the  reflections  so  eloquently  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Milton, 
she  had  to  explain  the  matter  some  way,  and  the  only 
way  she  could  touch  the  subject  was  to  pacify  him  with 
out  telling  him  the  real  cause  of  it  all. 

"No,  Mr.  Milton,  you  are  not  to  be  blamed,"  answered 
Miss  Virginia,  hesitatingly,  not  knowing  how  to  start, 
and  somewhat  displeased  at  herself  for  having  com 
menced  the  conversation  on  the  subject.  "There  is  no 
use  for  me  to  hide  the  fact  that  a  sudden  change  took 
place  in  my  demeanor  towards  you  after  that  memorable 
day  of  which  you  are  speaking,  but  please  don't  judge 
me  so  severely,  for  it  was  not  my  fault.  You  know  well 


187 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


I  never  had  secrets  from  you,  for  you  know  my  life  from 
the  day  you  first  came  to  our  house.  You  also  know 
well,  that  I  regarded  you  as  the  best  and  nearest  friend 
I  ever  had,  and  probably  will  have  in  the  future.  But  a 
thing  happened  which  tore  my  heart,  shattered  all  my 
senses,  and  left  me  with  no  hope  for  the  regaining  of  my 
life,  which  started  its  awakening  under  your  friendly  in 
fluence.  The  nature  of  that  event  is  such,  that  notwith 
standing  all  my  confidence  in  you,  which  I  never,  never 
lost,  nor  displaced,  I  must  confess,  that  I  cannot  tell 
you  anything  about  it.  Ah,  if  you  only  knew,  if  you 
only  could  conceive,  but Here  she  stopped,  cover 
ing  with  both  hands  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Mr.  Mil 
ton  was  moved  with  compassion,  unable  to  find  consoling 
words.  In  the  meantime  Miss  Virginia  vainly  tried  to 
overcome  her  momentary  emotion,  for  now  the  contents 
of  that  ominous  letter  stood  before  her  eyes  in  all  its 
nakedness.  How  could  she  tell  him,  that  she  was  a  child 
of  unknown  parents,  a  foundling!  Oh,  no,  no!  A  million 
times  better  to  die  than  to  give  up  the  secret  of  her  heart, 
she  thought,  and  she  burst  again  into  bitter  tears. 

The  picture  was  full  of  pathos.  On  one  hand  the  sen 
sitiveness  of  a  highly  intellectual  maiden  brought  to 
despair;  on  the  other,  powerless  sympathy  and  compas 
sion. 

Finally  Mr.  Milton  broke  the  silence. 

"You  know  well,  Miss  Virginia,"  he  said,  "or  if  you 
don't,  let  me  tell  you  now,  that  the  sorrow  which  has  pen 
etrated  your  sensitive  heart  so  deeply,  although  its  nature 
is  not  known  to  me,  pierces  my  heart  with  untold  grief. 
From  what  I  learn  now,  I  see  that  the  matter  is  of  a  more 
serious  nature  than  I  anticipated.  There  is  an  apprehen- 


188 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


sion  of  evil  that  troubles  you,  dear  girl.  But  knowing 
your  life  as  I  do,  I  confess,  I  cannot  imagine  what  could 
have  disturbed  your  peace.  The  worst  experiences  that 
a  girl  of  your  age  could  be  subjected  to,  you  have  en 
dured.  You  bore  them  courageously  and  bravely." 

"Yes,  I  did,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  "but  what  a  differ 
ence  between  the  two.  The  events  actuated  by  the  laws 
of  nature,  such  as  death,  command  our  unconditional  sub 
mission,  as  you,  yourself,  taught  me.  But,  an  event 
which  flashes  like  a  thunder-clap,  causing  irreparable 
devastation  and  piercing  a  sensitive  heart  with  a  deadly 
arrow,  is  a  thing  which  no  one  can  stand,  and  against 
which  one's  soul  protests,  rebels  with  untold  grievance; 
but,  oh,  I  cannot  say  anything  more,  it  is  terrible,  ter 
rible,"  and  her  tears  poured  down  like  a  set  of  brilliants 
rolling  on  her  now  rosy  cheeks. 

At  the  sight  of  this  desolate  picture,  Mr.  Milton  lost 
his  usual  calmness,  and  approaching,  took  her  hand  in 
his  and  passionately  said : 

"Virginia,  dear  girl,  why  in  the  name  of  all  that  is 
sacred  to  you,  why  are  you  concealing  from  me  a  secret 
that  is  devouring  your  heart  ?  Why  don't  you  tell  me  your 
troubles?  Don't  you  know  I  am  your  friend,  your  best 
friend?  Don't  you  know  that  with  all  my  heart  and  soul 
Ilo- 

"For  God's  sake,  no  more,"  cried  Miss  Virginia,  stand 
ing  before  him  erect  in  a  menacing  attitude.  Her  tears 
disappeared  as  though  by  incantation,  and  looking  at  him 
imploringly  she  continued : 

"If  you  want  to  spare  me,  don't  finish  your  sentence." 

"\Vhy,  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  with  surprise,  "are 
you  afraid  of  my  confession?  Have  I  to  conclude  that 


189 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


you  have  an  aversion  to  what  I  am  nourishing  in  my 
heart  for  you?" 

"Oh,  no,  it  is  not  that,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  with  a 
softer  tone.  "I  know  you  would  not  like  to  make  the 
case  worse  than  it  is,  and  that  is  why  I  beseech  you  not 
to  make  me  more  miserable  than  I  am." 

"But  you  astonish  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Milton.  "Why 
miserable  ?  Why  such  an  extremity  ?  What  I  wanted  to 
say  is  not  to  make  you  unhappy.  I  want  to  tell  you 

"Oh,  I  know  well  what  you  want  to  tell  me,"  inter 
rupted  Miss  Virginia,  "but  I  also  know  the  time  has  not 
yet  come  for  me  to  listen.  If  you  really  care  for  my  feel 
ings,  I  know  you  do,  it  is  best  not  to  say  anything  more 
today— 

"Then  tomorrow?"  inquired  Mr.  Milton,  smiling. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  not  tomorrow,  nor  the  day  after.  Until 
the  proper  time  comes.  When,  I  will  tell  you.  If  that 
time  does  not  come,  then  better,  thousands  of  times  better, 
for  you  not  to  say  it,  and  for  me  not  to  listen,"  concluded 
Miss  Virginia. 

"The  more  I  listen  to  you,  the  more  I  am  mystified." 
said  Mr.  Milton  thoughtfully.  "If  only  you  would  ex 
plain— 

"Ah,  explain,"  repeated  Miss  Virginia  sadly.  "If  only 
I  could,  do  you  think  I  would  hesitate  for  a  moment  to 
tell  you  all  I  know7,  or  better,  to  say  all  that  I  don't  know 
and  wish  to  know  ?  We  have  known  each  other  now  for 
several  years.  As  I  said,  you  know  all  concerning  my 
life  perhaps  better  than  I.  Up  to  that  fatal  day  you  had 
no  reason  to  complain  of  lack  of  willingness  on  my  part 
to  listen  to  you.  Beginning  that  day,  an  incident  took 
place  which  I  confess  still  remains  a  mystery  to  me.  But 


190 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


one  thing  is  clear  though,  that  as  matters  stand  today 
the  wisest  thing  for  both  of  us  is  to  stay  where  we  are. 
That  is,  we  remain  friends,  good  friends,  and  nothing 
more." 

"But  can  I  not  help  you  in  solving  that  mystery?"  in 
quired  Mr.  Milton  insistently.  "Do  you  know  that  the 
worst  feature  of  the  case  is  that  you  seem  to  have  lost 
confidence  in  me?  If  I  knew  the  nature  of  that  mys 
tery,  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to  relieve  you  of  its 
burden.  But,  I  see  you  do  not  wish  to  confide  it  to  me 
for  some  reasons  undoubtedly  important  enough  to  make 
you  act  the  way  you  are  acting.  However,  let  me  ask 
you  one  thing.  Should  you  find  I  can  be  of  service,  will 
you  then  tell  me  the  whole  truth?" 

"That  I  promise  you  solemnly,"  said  Miss  Virginia, 
firmly. 

"And  why  not  now?"  asked  Mr.  Milton. 

"Because  now  I  am  positive  that  it  is  not  in  your 
power  to  do  anything  that  would  throw  the  desired  light 
on  the  still  obscure  case.  Moreover,  remember  this  well, 
should  I  ever  speak  of  it,  it  will  be  to  you  only." 

"O  dear  girl — well,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  with  submis 
sion,  "that  perfectly  satisfies  me.  I  shall  wait  if  neces 
sary  even  the  whole  eternity  to  hear  your  final  decree, 
Miss  Virginia.  In  the  meantime  I  wish  you  would  re 
member  that  there  is  no  sacrifice  which  I  am  not  willing 
to  endure  in  order  to  make  you  feel  as  happy  as  you 
were  in  days  long  past.  Now  I  must  leave  you.  Au 
revoir." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Milton  arose,  following  Miss  Vir 
ginia  to  the  hall. 

"Just  one  moment,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  returning  to 


191 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  library,  where  she  had  left  her  morning  bouquet.  She 
brought  a  bud  of  pretty  Kaiserin  and  put  it  into  the  but 
ton-hole  of  his  coat. 

"Now  you  can  go,"  said  she,  sadly. 

"Not  yet,"  came  from  the  upper  floor.  It  was  Mrs. 
Pratt's  voice.  "Virginia,"  she  went  on,  "did  you  tell 
Mr.  Milton  to  bring  with  him  his  friend  the  Count  when 
he  comes  tomorrow?" 

"Oh,  I  forgot  all  about  it,"  returned  Miss  Virginia. 

"Now,  Mr.  Milton,"  she  said,  "my  aunt  wishes  to 
make  it  sure  that  you  will  bring  with  you  your  friend 
Count  Morat.  She  is  very  anxious  to  meet  him." 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Milton.  "I  spoke  to  him  and 
he  at  once  said  that  he  would  be  delighted  to  come  with 
me  to  become  acquainted  with  both  of  you." 

"Virginia," — again  the  voice  came  from  above.  "I 
wish  also  Mr.  Milton  would  tell  his  mother  to  come  early 
in  the  afternoon  and  stay  with  us  the  rest  of  the  time." 

"All  right,  auntie,"  shouted  Mr.  Milton,  gaily.  "I 
will  send  my  mother  over,  as  soon  as  she  can  possibly 
come." 

"Now,  then,  good-bye,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  and  shaking 
hands  with  Miss  Virginia  cordially,  he  left  the  house. 

"O,  what  an  unfathomed  sea!"  thought  Mr.  Milton, 
while  leaving  the  house. 

Contemplating  what  he  had  heard  from  Miss  Virginia, 
Mr.  Milton  was  forced  to  come  to  the  conclusion,  that 
the  peculiar  tactics  adopted  by  her  were  not  due  to  her 
indifference  to  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  certain 
that  there  was  nothing  changed  in  the  existing  relations 
between  himself  and  the  girl  he  loved.  Moreover,  know 
ing  well  her  prudence,  especially  in  matters  pertaining  to 


192 


A  LOVE  THAT  WAS  NOT  A  MERE  PASSION. 


herself,  he  could  not  help  concluding  that  the  mystery 
surrounding  her  conduct  was  of  a  nature  she  could  not 
control.  But  what  was  it?  That  remained  unanswered. 
Finally  he  concluded  to  arm  himself  with  patience  and 
let  events  take  their  natural  course. 


193 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


There  was  an  unusual  activity  in  and  around  the  Glad- 
ston  home.  It  was  the  day  of  the  first  autumnal  recep 
tion.  The  veranda  was  beautifully  decorated  with  fanci 
ful  Chinese  lanterns,  forming  a  fantastic  garland  be 
tween  the  columns.  The  tiny  electric  lamps  of  different 
colors  placed  here  and  there  in  the  green  rose  bushes  and 
ferns,  growing  around  the  house,  and  on  the  wide 
grounds,  produced  a  charming  effect  during  the  night. 
Inside,  the  whole  house  was  brilliantly  illuminated.  Mrs. 
Milton,  who  had  come  early  in  the  afternoon,  now  was 
closeted  with  Mrs.  Pratt,  discussing  things  that  were  in 
teresting  to  them.  Miss  Virginia  busied  herself  about 
the  house.  At  about  eight  o'clock,  the  invited  guests 
made  their  appearance.  These  were  several  girl  friends 
of  Miss  Virginia,  who  came  first.  The  moment  they  en 
tered  the  main  hall,  the  little  Corinne  ran  to  meet  them, 
and  in  a  most  dignified  manner  proclaimed  that  the  girls 
must  take  notice,  that  the  evening  was  a  strictly  French 
affair,  and  that  the  language  to  be  spoken  was  French. 


194 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


This  announcement  had  been  prepared  under  the  direction 
of  Miss  Virginia,  and  she  delivered  it  in  exquisite  French. 
Those  who  understood  what  Corinne  said,  took  the  her 
alded  rule  for  the  evening  into  consideration,  and  began 
to  speak  French  the  best  they  knew  how.  Shortly  a 
party  of  young  men  arrived,  and  they  were  told  the  same 
thing,  one  of  the  girls  explaining  that  it  would  be  a  seri 
ous  breach  of  etiquette,  should  any  of  the  young  men 
speak  to  any  young  girl  in  any  other  language  than 
French.  This  furnished  the  young  people  plenty  of  food 
for  merriment.  There  were  few  who  could  master  Bal 
zac's  language,  but  this  did  not  discourage  the  rest  of 
the  crowd,  for  they  improvised  for  the  occasion  a 
French  which  was  made  up  of  English  words  with 
French  endings,  so  that  everybody,  whether  a  French 
scholar  or  not,  could  understand  it,  and  this  made  them 
happy.  After  while  more  guests  arrived,  amongst  whom 
were  our  friends  Dr.  Ihringier  and  the  jovial  Mr.  Irv 
ing,  with  their  wives.  Next  came  Rev.  Dr.  Darling. 
He  was  met  by  Mrs.  Pratt,  who  conducted  him  to  the 
parlor,  and  very  nicely  succeeded  in  forming  a  circle 
around  him  that  was  congenial.  Most  of  these  people 
knew  each  other.  But  there  were  a  few  who  were  not 
acquainted  with  everybody  present.  Amongst  those  was 
Dr.  Ihringier,  who  now  and  then  turned  to  Mr.  Irving 
for  information.  In  order  to  make  his  task  easier,  Mr. 
Irving  began  to  tell  the  Doctor,  who  was  who,  starting 
from  one  end  of  the  parlor  and  ending  with  the  other. 

While  the  little  groups  scattered  in  the  room  were  en 
gaged  in  conversation.  Miss  Virginia  was  encircled  in 
one  end  of  the  parlor  by  her  young  friends  and  admir 
ers,  amongst  whom  most  prominently  figured  Mr.  Mont- 


195 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


gomery.  One  of  the  girls,  Miss  Whiting,  a  charming 
young  lady,  was  relating  her  impressions  of  the  trip  to 
Mount  Lowe,  where  she  had  been  for  the  first  time  the 
day  before.  She  had  no  adequate  words  to  express  her 
admiration  for  the  majestic  scenery  afforded  by  the  elec 
tric  road  running  up  and  down  the  mountain.  Especially 
she  dwelt  upon  the  enchanting  sight  in  the  evening,  while 
standing  near  the  Observatory  and  reviewing  the  im 
mense  plateau,  comprising  an  area  of  hundreds  of  miles 
spread  before  her.  In  the  center  of  it,  the  city  of  Los 
Angeles,  lighted  with  its  innumerable  electric  lamps  on 
the  public  thoroughfares  and  private  buildings,  repre 
sented  a  nocturnal  picture  rarely  seen  anywhere  else. 
Numerous  electric  cars  running  in  all  directions  outside 
of  the  city,  could  be  easily  discerned  swiftly  moving  to 
their  destinations.  The  ocean-side  towns  in  full  blaze  of 
electric  lights  pointed  out  the  terminus  of  the  main  land 
bordering  the  great  Pacific.  Looking  at  the  celestial  ex 
panse  above,  it  seemed  as  though  the  fascinating  picture 
spread  below  was  a  reflection  of  the  majestic  sky, 
dotted  with  myriads  of  its  beautiful  stars.  "This  is  a 
picture  which  hardly  can  be  conceived  by  any  one  unless 
seen  as  I  saw  it,"  concluded  Miss  Whiting. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mr.  Milton  and  Count 
Morat  entered  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Pratt  immediately  arose 
to  meet  them.  Shaking  hands  with  her,  Mr.  Milton  in 
troduced  his  friend,  Count  Morat,  who  was  offered  a 
chair  between  the  two  ladies,  Mrs.  Milton,  whom  he  al 
ready  knew,  and  Mrs.  Pratt,  with  whom  he  began  to 
converse.  In  the  meantime  Mr.  Milton,  as  though 
searching  for  some  one,  disappeared.  Shortly  he  came 
in  with  Miss  Virginia,  who,  having  been  called  to  the 


196 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


library,  was  absent  at  the  moment  when  these  two  gen 
tlemen  entered  the  room.  While  walking  from  the 
main  door,  they  were  facing  Count  Morat,  who  was 
seated  in  the  opposite  end  of  the  parlor.  When  Count 
Morat  saw  them  entering,  his  sharp  eye  caught  the  sight 
of  Miss  Virginia  the  moment  she  appeared  in  the  room. 
He  was  struck  as  though  by  a  magic  vision.  The  ex 
pression  of  his  face  was  that  of  a  man  who  unexpectedly 
met  some  one  whom  he  thought  he  knew,  yet  was  un 
able  to  give  a  clear  account  of  the  incident.  The  nearer 
Miss  Virginia  came  to  him,  the  greater  was  his  amaze 
ment.  But,  master  of  himself  as  he  was,  he  knew  how 
to  control  his  feelings.  At  this  instant  Miss  Virginia 
stood  before  him  modest  in  appearance,  but  with  a  per 
sonality  that  marked  distinction  and  gentle  birth. 

"This  is  Miss  Virginia  Gladston,"  said  Mr.  Milton, 
with  a  tone  which  plainly  indicated  his  supreme  pride  in 
the  girl  of  his  heart's  choice. 

Count  Morat  shook  the  offered  hand  of  Miss  Virginia 
affably,  and  asked  her  to  take  his  chair;  but  she  begged 
to  be  excused,  not  wishing  to  disturb  him.  In  the 
meantime  Mr.  Milton  brought  a  chair  for  her,  and  placed 
it  next  to  the  Count.  Count  Morat  seemed  at  first  as 
though  somewhat  uneasy,  evidently  due  to  the  first  im 
pression  he  had,  but  shortly  he  mastered  the  situation 
and  commenced  an  interesting  conversation  with  the 
young  hostess.  Were  there  an  interested  observer,  he 
could  easily  detect  that  there  was  something  unusual 
which  disturbed  the  habitual  calmness  of  Count  Morat. 
After  a  few  remarks  Miss  Virginia  arose,  saying  that 
she  wished  the  Count  to  know  the  rest  of  the  family,  and 


197 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


disappeared.     Shortly  she  came  back  in  company  with 
her  two  brothers  and  the  little  sister. 

"This  is  my  brother  Charley,  our  musician  par  excel 
lence,"  said  Miss  Virginia.  "The  next  is  Camille,  our 
little  astronomer,  and  the  youngest  is  my  little  sister 
Corinne." 

"I  am  charmed  to  meet  every  one  of  you,"  said  Count 
Morat,  shaking  hands  with  all  of  them  with  a  genuine 
delight,  for  he  was  a  lover  of  children. 

"Now  that  you  are  here,  Corinne,"  said  Mrs.  Pratt, 
"won't  you  let  us  hear  the  little  verses  you  have  learned 
in  French?" 

The  little  girl  looked  inquiringly  at  Miss  Virginia,  and 
having  received  her  approval,  consented  to  recite.  She 
stood  for  a  while  somewhat  embarrassed,  and  finally 
started  with  a  calm  and  distinct  voice: 

CONSEILS  A  UN  ENFANT.     (*) 
Oh !  bien  loin  de  la  voie 
Ou  marche  le  pecheur, 
Chemine  ou  Dieu  t'envoie! 
Enfant!  garde  ta  joie! 
Lis !  garde  ta  blancheur ! 

Sois  humble!  que  t'  importe 

Le  riche  et  le  puissant ! 

Un  souffle  les  emporte. 

La  force  la  plus  forte, 

C  'est  un  coeur  innocent.  Victor  Hugo. 


(*)     Counsels  to  a  Child. 

Far  from  the  ways  of  a  sinner,  walk  thou  the  paths  in  which 
God  leads  thee.  O,  child,  guard  thy  joy.  O,  lily,  preserve  thy 
purity. 

Be  humble.  What  car'st  thou  for  riches  and  power,  which 
are  carried  away  by  a  breath.  The  power  of  powers  is  an  in 
nocent  heart. 


198 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


Scarcely  had  Corinne  finished  her  recitation,  when  a 
loud  hand-clapping  echoed  from  all  corners  of  the  big 
room.  Those  in  the  farther  ends,  demanded  an  encore, 
so  that  the  little  girl  was  forced  to  repeat  her  verses. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Millard,  a  matronly  looking 
lady,  sitting  next  to  Mrs.  Milton,  "La  force  la  plus  forte, 
c'est  tin  coeur  innocent." 

"She  recited  it  very  prettily,"  remarked  Mrs.  Milton. 
"One  can  see  the  training  of  her  sister." 

"Yes,  the  splendid  training  is  quite  evident,"  said 
Count  Morat,  looking  at  Miss  Virginia.  "But  I  am  im 
pressed  very  much  by  the  selection  of  the  names  of  these 
children." 

"That  selection  has  its  own  story,"  said  Mrs.  Pratt. 
"My  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Gladston,  was  a  man  who  never 
did  anything  which  was  not  actuated  by  a  thought  that 
interested  him  for  some  reasons.  The  naming  of  his 
first  child  was  his  act  of  patriotism.  His  second  was 
named  after  his  father,  and  that  was  the  expression  of 
his  filial  affection.  The  third  he  named  after  the  great 
French  astronomer,  Camille  Flammarion,  for  whom  he 
always  had  a  great  admiration;  and  finally  Corinne  was 
named  as  a  tribute  to  the  genius  of  Madame  de  Stael, 
the  great  lady  of  Napoleonic  times." 

"He  was  a  man  of  my  heart,"  said  Mrs.  Milton. 
"While  exploring  and  admiring  great  men  of  science,  he 
did  not  neglect  to  pay  his  homage  to  the  memory  of  a 
great  woman.  In  admiring  Madame  de  Stael,  he  sym 
bolized  in  her  person  a  thinking  woman,  and  this  is  ex 
ceedingly  gratifying." 

"Undoubtedly  the  selection  is  very  fortunate,"  remarked 
Count   Morat.      "Madame  de  Stael  was   a  lady   of   ex- 


199 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


quisite  refinements,  and  of  a  powerful  intellect.  Above 
all  she  was  a  charming1  conversationalist.  She  stood 
alone  as  a  bright  star  of,  her  times,  and  as  such  she  was 
the  most  influential  woman.  Notwithstanding  the  inces 
sant  and  barbaric  persecutions  instituted  by  the  then  mas 
ter  of  Europe,  Napoleon  the  Great,  she  never  ceased  to 
be  the  idol  of  the  highly  cultured  classes.  Wherever  she 
happened  to  be  in  Europe,  representatives  of  science,  poli 
tics  and  arts  went  to  her  to  pay  the  homage  de 
servedly  due  her.  Every  man  and  woman  of  conse 
quence  was  attracted  to  her  by  that  magic  power,  which 
she  alone  knew  how  to  exercise." 

"That  is  the  kind  of  a  woman  we  need  nowadays," 
said  Mrs.  Milton,  who  could  not  conceal  her  delight  in 
hearing  the  fitting  eulogy  of  Madame  de  Stael.  "To 
educate  the  woman  of  our  days  to  a  high  standard  of  in 
tellectuality,  is  the  object  of  our  times.  The  work  per 
formed  by  our  Ebell  Institution,  as  limited  as  it  is,  tends 
in  that  direction.  We  need  very  badly  thinking  men  as 
well  as  thinking  women,  who  can  be  guided  by  their  own 
rational  thinking,  and  not  remain  forever  slaves  to  a  set 
of  rules  belonging  to  the  dark  ages." 

"That  is  one  more  reason  why  the  greatest  astronomer 
of  our  days  should  be  admired  by  all,"  said  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  fondling  her  brother  Camille,  who,  sitting  on  the 
floor,  was  leaning  his  head  against  her  knees. 

"Virginia  follows  the  sentiment  of  her  father  in  ad 
miring  the  French  philosopher,"  remarked  Mrs.  Pratt. 

"She  is  perfectly  correct,"  joined  Mr.  Milton.  "For 
today  there  is  no  scientist  who  has  accomplished  more 
in  enlightening  the  masses  than  he." 

"In  what  way?"  inquired  Dr.  Ihringier,  who  was  al- 


200 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


ways  to  be  found  wherever  science  was  discussed.  "Or, 
rather,  to  put  my  question  in  a  more  precise  form,  I 
should  have  asked :  in  what  consists  his  peculiar  merit, 
which  makes  him,  in  your  opinion,  stand  higher  than 
any  other  man  of  science?" 

"In  the  fact,  that  he  sees  more  through  his  scientific 
eyes  than  any  other  man,"  replied  Mr.  Milton.  "Most 
of  the  men  who  deal  with  mathematics  are  men  of  a 
mechanical  precision.  When  they  reach  a  certain  math 
ematical  conclusion,  they  announce  it  to  the  world  as  an 
ultimatum  against  which  there  is  no  appeal.  While 
with  Flammarion  one  goes  much  farther.  In  the  me 
chanical  construction  of  the  Universe  he  sees  not  only 
what  is  visible  to  others,  but,  by  the  precision  of  a  scien 
tist  he  detects  the  existence  of  the  power  that  rules  and 
animates  all.  The  cry  of  so-called  materialists  of  today, 
hither  and  no  farther,  does  not  stop  him.  He  wants  to 
know  more,  and  he  learns  it  with  his  wonderful  re 
searches,  and  with  still  more  wonderful  methods  he 
teaches  it  to  millions  of  his  readers.  This  is  what  makes 
Flammarion  what  he  is." 

"Virginia,"  said  Camille,  raising  his  head  and  looking 
at  his  sister.  "What  is  Pygmalion?" 

"Pygmalion,"  repeated  Miss  Virginia.  "What  makes 
you  ask  such  a  question?" 

"Now  that  you  are  speaking  of  Flammarion,  it  came 
to  my  mind,  that  sometimes  his  comrades  used  to  call 
him  by  that  name.  What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  Miss  Virginia,  laugh 
ing  heartily.  "Ask  Mr.  Milton ;  he  may  tell  you." 

"I  will  do  so  gladly,"  said  Mr.  Milton ;  "but  first  you 
must  tell  me  where  did  you  find  that  word." 


201 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"I  was  reading  Flammarion's  book,  I  don't  remember 
now  which  one,  and  found  it  there,  where  he  writes  that 
some  of  his  chums  used  to  call  him  by  that  name." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Irving,  who  was  now  awak 
ened  by  the  improvised  talk  of  Camille.  "Are  you,  lit 
tle  boy,  reading  such  works  as  Flammarion's?  You 
must  be  a  phenomenal  boy." 

"Nothing  phenomenal  about  him,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Pratt.  "Camille  has  read  all  there  is  translated  of  Mr. 
Flammarion's  works.  He  is  not  only  by  the  name  a 
Camille.  He  loves  astronomy,  and  all  he  knows  he  has 
learned  from  the  writings  of  that  great  man  of  science 
whose  name  he  bears." 

"You  must  consider,  Mr.  Irving,"  said  Miss  Virginia, 
"that  Flammarion's  writings  are  very  accessible  to  all. 
He  uses  a  language  which  by  its  simplicity  impresses 
more  forcibly  than  any  other  on  the  same  subject." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Count  Morat.  "Camille  Flam 
marion's  writings  are  the  gems  of  our  scientific  world. 
He  takes  his  readers  in  a  most  gracious  manner  into  space 
millions  and  millions  of  miles  away  from  our  planet,  and 
shows  him  in  a  tangible  way  the  beautiful  structure  of 
the  Universe.  Amongst  the  myriads  of  bright  stars,  he 
points  out  an  insignificant  bluish  spot,  looking  not  larger 
than  the  end  of  a  pin,  and  tells  you,  'There  is  your  earth ; 
look  at  it  and  see  how  little,  how  unimportant  it  is  when 
compared  with  the  rest  of  visible  stars.  When  you  gaze 
upon  the  stupendous  greatness  of  the  Universe  and  its 
immensity,  you  conceive  the  smallness  of  yourself  and 
your  earth,  and  then  you  begin  to  realize  what  all  your 
bravery  in  your  beliefs  and  disbeliefs  and  the  rest  which 
constitutes  vour  little  horizon  of  earthlv  life  amounts  to. 


202 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


It  is  a  joy,  a  delight  to  follow  him  in  his  travels  amongst 
the  stars  and  planets.  He  is  perfectly  justified  in  assert 
ing  that  we  should  learn  to  solve  the  mysteries  of  life  by 
familiarizing  ourselves  with  the  science  of  astronomy. 
An  astronomy  at  the  hand  of  some  of  our  astronomers, 
who  are  as  dull  as  an  old  fashioned  shoemaker,  does  not 
teach  us  anything.  Astronomy  in  the  masterly  hands  of 
Camille  Flammarion  is  a  joy.  It  is  a  science  that  teaches 
things  which  are  positive,  but  how  delightfully  interest 
ing,  only  he  knows  who  follows  him  in  his  heavenly  pere 
grinations." 

"Mr.  Milton,"  said  Camille,  impatiently,  "will  you 
now  tell  me  what  is  Pygmalion?" 

"Pygmalion  is  the  name  of  a  legendary  King  of  Cy 
prus,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "whom  licentious  conduct  of  his 
country-women  so  disgusted  that  he  conceived  a  hatred 
against  the  whole  sex.  According  to  Ovid,  he  made  an 
ivory  female  statue  of  such  exceeding  beauty  that  he  fell 
desperately  in  love  with  it,  and  prayed  Venusto  endow  it 
with  life.  The  goddess  granted  his  request.  Pygmalion 
then  married  the  object  of  his  affections,  and  by  her  had 
a  son  called  Paphus,  who  founded  the  city  of  that  name." 

"Yes,"  said  Camille,  "but  I  still  do  not  understand  why 
Flammarion  should  be  called  Pygmalion." 

"Simply  because  he,  like  Pygmalion,  fell  in  love  with 
Urania,  who  was  not,  as  he  says,  a  fair  blue-eyed  maiden, 
a  dream  of  spring,  an  innocent  but  inquisitive  daughter  of 
Eve;  she  was  simply  one  of  the  nine  Muses,  who  presided 
over  astronomy,  and  whose  statue  became  the  object  of 
Mr.  Flammarion's  affections.  But  this  happened  when 
he  was  only  a  few  years  older  than  you,  Camille,"  con 
cluded  Mr.  Milton. 


203 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


During  this  time  the  silent  figure  of  Mr.  Montgomery 
followed  Miss  Virginia  whenever  he  could.  He  did  not 
take  part  in  any  conversations,  because,  as  he  said,  he  was 
not  interested  in  them ;  but  actually  it  was  because  he  could 
not  discuss  anything  that  would  interest  anybody.  Now 
and  then  he  spoke  to  Miss  Virginia,  but  his  remarks  were 
of  such  a  nature  that  they  could  not  engage  her  atten 
tion.  While  in  society  he  was  invariably  attracted  by  a 
glittering  diamond  ring  or  any  other  shining  thing  which 
commonly  is  called  jewelry.  Of  these  he  would  speak 
for  hours,  could  he  find  listeners.  But  these  things  did 
not  interest  Miss  Virginia.  She  had  far  more  refined 
taste  than  that.  All  sorts  of  jewelry  she  called  by  their 
proper  name,  "the  relics  of  barbarism."  If  a  girl,  young 
or  old,  is  not  attractive  by  her  natural  charms,  she  can 
not  be  made  such  by  hanging  on  her  person  all  sorts  of 
shining  metals  and  stones,  no  matter  how  expensive  they 
may  be.  A  woman  who  does  not  know  that  simplicity 
in  dress  and  appearance  is  the  most  gracious  adornment 
of  nature  she  can  be  proud  of,  had  better  cultivate  her 
tastes.  This  was  Miss  Virginia's  opinion,  and  she  was 
perfectly  correct. 

While  Count  Morat  and  the  rest  turned  their  attentions 
to  Dr.  Darling,  who  now  was  discussing  Dante,  the  poet 
of  theologians,  Miss  Virginia,  noticing  that  Mr.  Milton 
was  sitting  alone  on  the  sofa,  went  to  sit  next  to  him. 
Naturally  Mr.  Montgomery  followed  her  and  took  a 
chair  next  to  that  corner  of  the  sofa  where  Miss  Virginia 
was  sitting.  At  this  moment,  as  though  by  a  command, 
the  big  Maltese  cat  made  his  appearance,  and  leaping  on 
the  sofa  lolled  down,  putting  its  shapely  head  on  Miss 
Virginia's  lap. 


204 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


"Poor  Fedo,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  patting  the  pretty 
animal,  "He  is  longing  for  caresses."  Then  suddenly, 
as  though  finding  some  connection  between  him  and  the 
man  sitting  near  by,  turning  to  Mr.  Montgomery  she 
said : 

"Well,  Mr.  Montgomery,  did  you  find  the  difference 
between  your  man  and  my  cat?" 

Mr.  Montgomery,  who  was  in  the  seventh  heaven,  ad 
miring  his  own  diamond  ring,  was  mercilessly  brought 
down  to  reality  by  surprise.  He  looked  at  the  cat  with 
such  a  disugust  that  it  made  him  appear  ugly.  He  did 
not  answer  until  the  question  was  repeated  once  more. 

"Oh,  well,'  said  he,  arising,  "I  think  I  will  go  to  see 
Charley  about  that  game  we  are  planning  for  tomorrow7." 

"Looking  at  the  disappearing  genial  hero.  Miss  Vir 
ginia  smiled  with  compassion,  and  related  to  Mr.  Milton 
the  conversation  she  had  with  him  some  time  ago.  Hear 
ing  this  Mr.  Milton  was  greatly  amused.  He  thought 
it  was  a  stratagem  worthy  of  a  great  general,  and  they 
both  laughed. 

"How  do  you  like  my  friend  the  Count?"  asked  Mr. 
Milton. 

"He  is  perfectly  charming,"  replied  Miss  Virginia, 
with  her  usual  frankness.  "It  may  appear  strange  to 
you,  but  I  must  confess,  I  feel  very  much  attracted  to 
him." 

"What,  so  soon?"  inquired  Mr.  Milton  jestingly. 

"Without  joking.  It  is  a  sensation  which  I  never  ex 
perienced  before,"  remarked  Miss  Virginia  quite  seriously. 

"Can  you  describe  the  sensation?"  asked  Mr.  Milton. 
"What  is  it  like?" 

'Well,  I  don't  know.    But  it  seems  to  me  as  though  he 


205 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


carries  with  him  an  atmosphere  with  soothing  qualities. 
It  is  a  flow  of  tranquility  and  harmony.  Can  you  under 
stand  such  a  sensation  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  for  I  feel  it  always  wherever  I  am  with 
you,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  smiling. 

"O  well,  but  tell  me  really,  have  you  ever  experienced 
such  a  thing  while  with  a  stranger?"  asked  Miss  Virginia. 

"Very  often,"  replied  Mr.  Milton,  gravely.  "It  is  a 
well  known  fact  that  some  people  possess  that  peculiar 
quality  which  in  some  cases  attracts  and  in  others  repels. 
I  felt  that  attraction  when  I  first  met  Count  Morat.  I 
feel  safe  in  saying  that  since  you  have  had  a  similar  ex 
perience,  you  will  enjoy  his  presence  every  time  you  meet 
him." 

At  this  juncture  the  little  Corinne  came  to  tell  Miss 
Virginia  that  all  was  ready  in  the  library.  This  was  in 
regard  to  the  musical  program  of  the  evening. 

The  home  raised  virtuosos  were  ready.  Following  the 
program,  Charley  Gladston  made  the  opening  by  playing 
on  the  piano  Mozart's  Fantasia  in  C  minor.  Then  fol 
lowed  a  violin  solo,  by  one  of  Charley's  friends.  The 
sweet  duet,  "O  That  We  Two  Were  Maying,"  was  sung 
by  two  girl  friends  of  Miss  Virginia.  The  program 
ended  by  a  pretty  piano  duettino  played  by  Corinne  and 
another  little  girl  of  her  age,  Georgia  Benton.  All  these 
numbers  were  applauded  very  enthusiastically.  Now  re 
freshments  were  served.  The  guests  were  divided  into 
small  groups  chatting  and  prattling  with  their  friends. 
Miss  Virginia  gave  all  her  attention  to  those  little  things 
which  on  similar  occasions  are  incumbent  upon  the 
hostess. 

During  this  time,  while  the  musical  program  was  in 


206 


Rubio  Canyon 


THE    FIRST    MEETING. 


progress,  and  afterwards  when  everybody  seemed  engaged 
with  himself,  Count  Morat  remained  silent.  His  thought 
followed  Miss  Virginia.  He  was  intently  observing  her 
movements  and  contemplating  things  which  seemed  to 
him  very  strange  and  mysterious.  At  times  he  was  very 
much  depressed.  About  this  time  he  noticed  some  of  the 
guests  leaving  the  house.  Following  their  example  he 
arose,  shook  hands  with  the  ladies,  bidding  them  good 
night,  but  he  could  not  depart.  He  was  looking  for  Miss 
Virginia,  who  shortly  entered  the  room.  Count  Morat, 
now  ready  to  go,,  approached  her,  took  her  little  hand 
in  his,  and  for  a  few  seconds  remained  silent.  He  was 
looking  into  that  face  which  mystified  and  bewitched 
him.  Finally  he  wished  her  good  night  and  left  the 
house.  Before  however  he  reached  the  veranda,  Mr.  Mil 
ton  joined  to  see  him  off  in  his  carriage,  which  was  wait 
ing  for  him  on  the  side  entrance  of  the  house.  Taking 
his  seat  in  his  landau  he  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Milton, 
saying  that  he  had  had  a  very  enjoyable  evening,  and 
ordered  Yonan,  who  now  was  sitting  next  to  the  driver, 
to  start  home  with  full  speed. 


207 


CHAPTER  X. 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


"Yonan,"  said  the  Count,  entering  his  room,  "where 
were  you  during  the  evening?  Did  you  stay  in  the 
house?" 

"Yes,  Master;  I  was  in  the  library,"  answered  the 
Chaldean. 

"Did  you  see—?" 

"Yes,  Master,"  interrupted  Yonan,  glad  he  was  given 
an  opportunity  to  speak.  "I  saw,  but,  Master,  do  you 
think ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  but,  oh !  such  a  resemblance, 
such  a  vivid  picture  of  my  brother 

"Yes,  Master,  a  perfect  one.  But  did  you  notice  the 
mark  on  her  face?" 

"No,  I  did  not.  Do  you  know  anything  about  the 
mark?"  inquired  Count  Morat. 

"O  Lord!  Do  I  know?  Indeed  I  do.  That  little  star 
on  her  rosy  cheek,  near  her  ear,  which  I  remember  see 
ing  so  often  when  I  used  to  carry  the  little  angel  on  my 
arms,"  replied  Yonan. 


208 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


"A  queer  coincidence,  perhaps;  but  tell  me  your  im 
pressions,  Yonan,"  said  the  Count,  taking  a  chair. 

"I  was  in  the  library,  Master,  when  she  came  in,  and 
walked  directly  to  me.  When  she  stood  before  me,  I 
was  amazed,  dumbfounded.  Her  blue  eyes,  the  expres 
sion  of  her  face,  and  especially  that  little  mark  on  her 
cheek,  which  I  saw  instantly,  although  partly  covered 
with  her  immensely  rich  hair,  thrilled  me  to  the  soul. 
She  spoke  to  me  kindly,  wishing  me  to  be  at  home.  I 
took  the  magazine  she  offered  for  my  amusement,  but, 
O  Lord,  I  felt  I  wanted  to  cry.  The  baby,  the  sweet  little 

baby,  stood  before  my  eyes Oh,  Master,  I  never  lost 

my  hopes  for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  princess,  but  now 
more  than  ever  I  feel  that  I  was  not  misguided  by  my 
intuition." 

"Well,"  said  Count  Morat,  thoughtfully,  "if  this  is  a 
coincidence,  certainly  it  is  a  very  remarkable  one." 

When  a  few  minutes  afterwards  the  Count  found  him 
self  alone,  he  began  to  pace  his  room  to  and  fro.  He 
was  so  agitated  after  he  had  heard  Yonan,  that  he  hardly 
could  think  in  a  consecutive  manner,  for  his  thoughts 
were  crowding  in  a  mass  of  confusion. 

"Gladston,  Gladston,"  he  began  to  repeat,  pacing  the 
room  more  rapidly.  "Don't  I  know  this  name?  Can  it 
be  that  this  is  the  family  I  heard  of  in  Mosul?  O,  but 
what  an  idea !  There  are  a  good  many  Gladstons  in  this 
world.  But  the  girl — that  striking  resemblance — a  real 
picture  of  my  brother — is  that  a  dream  or  a  seductive 
vision  ?"  Thus  thinking,  he  was  lost  in  his  reverie.  Miss 
Virginia  constantly  stood  before  his  eyes,  now  absorbing, 
now  shattering  his  thoughts.  Pictures  of  the  past  ap 
peared  in  a  panoramic  view  reminding  him  of  his  disap- 


209 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


pointments  and  bitter  experiences.  But  the  picture  of 
the  golden-haired  girl,  as  the  magnet  around  which  all 
the  rest  was  vibrating,  remained  firm,  looking  at  him 
and  smiling.  "Look,  look  at  that  picture;  don't  you  rec 
ognize  her?  Don't  you  recognize  my  child?  Does  she  not 
look  like  me?"  said  a  voice,  evidently  coming  from  some 
one  who  did  not  belong  to  this  visible  world.  "Oh,  a 
nightmare,  a  hallucination  perhaps  all  this  is,"  he  thought. 
However,  gradually  he  came  back  to  the  reality,  as  he 
saw  it  and  began  to  reason.  "Whatever  there  is  in  this 
mysterious  vision  that  I  am  having,  it  certainly  deserves 
to  be  investigated,"  he  thought.  Then  he  began  to 
search  for  the  shortest  way  to  accomplish  this.  "The 
first  thing  I  have  to  do,"  he  went  on  thinking,  "is  to  learn 
the  history  of  this  Gladston  family.  How  fortunate  that 
Mr.  Milton  knows  them.  But  would  a  superficial  de 
scription  from  hearsay  be  of  any  value  to  me?  Oh  no ;  I 
must  have  thorough  information,  and  this  can  only  be 
obtained  from  one  who  knows  it  authoritatively,  and  who 
would  be  interested  in  the  matter  as  much  as  I  am.  Why 
not  take  Mr.  Milton  into  my  confidence?  But  suppose, 
after  all,  this  is  simply  a  coincidence,  a  resemblance  such 
as  we  find  so  often;  in  that  case  what  would  be  the  use 
of  letting  Mr.  Milton  know  the  secret  of  my  mission? 
No,  this  is  not  the  best  way  to  start  with;  still,  a  little 
talk  with  him  on  this  subject  will  not  do  any  harm."  He 
looked  at  his  watch  feverishly.  It  was  near  midnight. 
He  wanted  to  telephone  to  Mr.  Milton  immediately  in  or 
der  to  tell  him  that  he  wanted  to  see  him  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning.  But  after  thinking  for  a  little  while  he 
came  to  the  conclusion,  that  this  hasty  action  might  ex 
cite  his  curiosity,  or  even  suspicion,  and  he  concluded  to 


210 


ON   THE   WAY   TO    DISCOVERY. 


wait  until  morning.  After  a  sleepless  night,  which  was 
spent  in  disquieting  meditation,  he  arose  earlier  than 
usual,  and  started  his  daily  work  by  examining  certain 
documents  of  importance. 

Yonan  was  not  surprised  when  he  saw  his  Master  in 
the  library  in  the  early  morning,  for  he  himself  had  a 
very  bad  night.  He  was  very  anxious  to  speak  to  him, 
but  he  knew  he  could  not  do  so  until  his  Master  had 
come  to  the  dining  room,  so  he  waited.  When  Count 
Morat  took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast  table, 

"Master,"  said  Yonan,  putting  the  freshly  made  choc 
olate  on  the  table,  "were  you  not  aware  of  the  fact  that 
the  princess  had  a  birth  mark  just  like  that  one  Miss  Vir 
ginia  has  on  her  face?" 

"Yes,  I  know  the  child  had  a  mark  on  her  face;  but  I 
was  so  struck  with  the  general  appearance  of  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  that  I  did  not  think  of  that  mark.  Her  eyes,  her 
complexion,  and  especially  her  strong  resemblance  to  my 
brother,  is  so  vivid,  that  I  could  not  think  of  anything 
else.  But  now  that  you  have  called  my  attention  to  that 
mark,  I  am  more  puzzled  than  ever." 

"But  do  you  know,  Master,  that  the  princess  had  an 
other  mark?"  inquired  Yonan,  wistfully. 

"No,  I  do  not  remember  that.  Why,  what  was  the 
other  mark?"  asked  Count  Morat. 

"The  other  mark  is  exactly  similar  to  that  one  on  her 
face,  and  is  located  under  her  right  arm.  I  remember 
well,  for  I  have  seen  that  mark  many  a  time,  and  used 
to  wonder  about  their  similarity.  If  this  is  our  princess, 
she  must  have  the  other  mark  as  well,"  concluded  Yonan, 
looking  inquiringly  at  his  master. 

"If  this  were  our  princess,"    repeated    Count    Morat 


211 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


sadly.  "This  charming  girl,  as  you  see,  is  an  Amreican, 
undoubtedly  born  and  raised  in  this  country.  O  what  a 
foolish  idea  to  think  that  she  could  be  the  lost  princess! 
Poor  child !  God  only  knows  what  became  of  her." 

"But,  Master,"  resumed  Yonan,  "don't  you  know  some 
times  there  are  miracles?  Besides,  that  resemblance  to 
my  Master,  the  late  Prince,  and  above  all,  that  birth-mark, 
that  wonderful  mark,  do  you  think  all  these  count  for 
nothing?  This  lady  may  be  an  American,  just  as  much 
as  we  are  now,  for  after  all  we  don't  know  where  she  was 
born,  nor  do  we  know  who  were  her  parents." 

"As  for  her  parents,  it  seems  there  is  no  doubt  that 
she  is  the  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston,  but,  oh, 
dear  me better  not  talk  any  more  on  this  subject.  In 
stead  have  the  carriage  ready  in  half  an  hour.  I  want 
to  see  Mr.  Milton,  and  as  he  is  always  in  his  office  during 
the  morning  hours,  we  will  drive  there,  where  undoubted 
ly  I  will  be  able  to  learn  something  by  which  I  can  be 
guided." 

Half  an  hour  later  Count  Morat  was  in  his  carriage 
driving  towards  the  city. 

Mr.  Milton  was  pleasantly  surprised  when  he  saw 
Count  Morat  entering  his  office.  Noticing  this,  the 
Count  hastened  to  explain  that  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Pasadena,  and  being  so  near,  he  thought  he  would  step 
in  for  a  good  morning.  Mr.  Milton  immediately  opened 
the  door  to  his  private  room  and  invited  the  Count  to  a 
comfortable  chair. 

"Well,  Count,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "how  do  you  like  the 
Gladston  family?  Don't  you  think  Miss  Virginia  is  a 
charming  girl?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  more  than  charming,  she  is  simply  be- 


212 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


witching,"  replied  the  Count,  glad  that  Mr.  Milton  start 
ed  the  conversation  on  the  subject.  This  afforded  him  a 
good  opportunity  to  make  his  inquiries  without  exciting 
undue  suspicion.  Having  learned  that  Mr.  Milton  knew 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  personally,  and  that  in  fact  his 
father  and  Mr.  Gladston  had  been  old  friends,  and  that 
the  existing  friendly  relations  between  the  two  families 
were  of  long  standing,  Count  Morat  instantly  arrived  at 
the  conclusion,  that  he  was  on  the  wrong  track,  for  he 
could  not  see  how  Miss  Virginia  could  have  any  connec 
tion  with  the  object  of  his  researches.  But  finally  he  said  : 

"According  to  what  you  say,  I  have  to  conclude  that 
Miss  Virginia  was  born  in  Richmond  ?  Am  I  correct  ?" 

"No,  Miss  Virginia  was  not  born  in  America,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Milton.  "She  was  born  somewhere  in  Asi 
atic  Turkey,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  were  there,  if 
I  am  not  mistaken,  for  two  years,  and  when  they  came 
back  the  little  girl  was  about  six  or  seven  months  old." 

When  Count  Morat  heard  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  his  heart 
began  to  palpitate  rapidly.  "The  beginning  is  quite 
promising,"  he  thought,  and  cautiously  proceeded  with 
further  inquiries,  but  unfortunately  he  could  not  learn 
anything  more  from  Mr.  Milton,  for  he  did  not  know 
the  exact  name  of  the  locality  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Glad 
ston  were  living  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  nor  did  he  know  the 
correct  date  of  Miss  Virginia's  birth.  Concluding  that 
a  further  inquiry  might  be  dangerous,  inasmuch  as  it 
might  betray  his  particular  interest  in  the  matter,  Count 
Morat  ended  his  morning  visit  with  some  remarks  on  lit 
tle  nothings,  and  left  the  office. 

While  in  his  carriage,  he  commenced  to  think.  What 
he  had  learned  from  Mr.  Milton  in  regard  to  the  Glad- 


213 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


ston  family,  although  somewhat  important,  was  so  little 
that  practically  it  amounted  to  nothing1.  The  information 
obtained  showed  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  had  lived 
for  some  time  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  but  in  what  particular 
locality,  what  particular  time,  and  in  what  capacity  they 
were  there,  was  yet  to  be  found  out.  Now  the  question 
was,  how,  by  what  means  and  from  what  sources  could 
he  get  this  information.  He  could  not  count  on  Mr.  Mil 
ton,  for  he  knew  nothing  in  regard  to  these  details.  Fin 
ally,  after  long  contemplation,  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  there  was  only  one  way,  namely,  to  cultivate  the  ac 
quaintance  of  Miss  Virginia,  and  eventually  learn  from 
her  all  he  wanted  to  know..  This  object  in  view,  a  few 
days  later  Count  Morat  paid  another  visit  to  the  Glad 
ston  family. 

A  man  of  culture  and  refinement  such  as  Count  Morat 
was,  familiar  with  the  most  fastidious  requirements  of 
social  life,  the  masterly  application  of  which  was  one  of 
his  prominent  traits,  gallant  in  his  manners,  and  charm 
ing  in  his  address,  did  not  encounter  much  difficulty  in 
pleasing  the  two  ladies,  who  now  became  the  only  object 
of  his  attentions.  Mrs.  Pratt  was  only  glad  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  the  opportunity  presented,  and  to  extend  her 
standing  invitation  to  the  gentleman  savant  for  all  of 
her  Tuesdays.  Yes,  indeed,  his  presence  at  her  literary 
gatherings  would  be  considered  a  highly  flattering  favor : 
and  both  Mrs.  Pratt  and  Miss  Virginia  would  be  only 
glad  to  see  him  at  their  house  as  often  as  he  might  con 
sider  convenient.  After  this  delightful  visit,  as  could  be 
expected,  Count  Morat  became  a  frequent  visitor  on 
Adams  street.  The  better  he  knew  Miss  Virginia,  the 
greater  was  his  admiration  for  her  exquisite  qualities. 


214 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 

Her  systematical  life,  combined  with  that  punctuality 
which  made  her  task  so  much  more  effective,  her  sincere 
and  deep  devotion  to  the  children,  her  everlastingly  vivid 
interest  in  all  pertaining  to  their  welfare,  were  qualities 
which  forcibly  demanded  his  high  regard.  Absolutely 
devoid  of  selfishness,  she  devoted  herself  entirely  to  the 
assumed  duties  of  a  mother.  In  performing  these  self- 
imposed  obligations,  she  found  the  enjoyment  of  her  life. 
"O.  what  a  noble  specimen  of  womanhood,"  thought  he, 
lovingly,  every  time  he  saw  her.  Observing  every  small 
est  detail  in  her  conduct,  he  found  in  her  many  traits 
which  were  quite  familiar  to  him,  for  they  were  identical 
with  the  characteristics  of  his  own  family. 

On  the  other  hand,  owing  to  his  erudition  and  versa 
tility,  Count  Morat's  frequent  visits  became  a  source  of 
special  delight  to  Miss  Virginia.  She  knew  well  how  to 
value  his  delightful  conversations,  which  were  as  pleas 
ant  as  they  were  instructive.  These  pleased  her  immense 
ly,  for  thus  she  could  learn  more  in  one  hour,  than  in  a 
month  by  reading  books,  which  in  many  cases  required 
a  technical  training  for  the  understanding  of  a  given  sub 
ject.  Owing  to  this,  Count  Morat  was  always  a  welcome 
guest  at  her  home.  Besides,  there  was  something  very 
mysterious  about  him.  The  attraction  she  felt  for  him 
the  day  she  saw  him  first,  grew7  stronger  every  day. 
Strange  to  say,  in  his  presence  she  felt  a  security  similar 
to  that  which  a  child  feels  in  the  arms  of  its  mother,  and 
which  she  had  not  experienced  since  her  mother's  death. 
What  was  still  more  striking,  she  never  could  see  in  him 
a  stranger.  What  was  the  cause  of  all  this  ?  She  could 
not  tell.  All  she  knew  was,  that  she  was  greatly  pleased 


215 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


with  the  established  relations  between  herself  and  the 
Count. 

In  the  meantime,  Count  Morat  was  radiant  with  un 
told  joy.  His  object  and  sole  aim  was,  to  gain  Miss  Vir 
ginia's  full  confidence,  and  this  was  now  an  accomplished 
fact.  Cognizant  of  this,  he  congratulated  himself  upon 
the  success  of  his  undertaking.  Now  that  the  way  was 
paved,  he  thought  the  time  had  come  to  make  another 
move  for  the  advancement  of  his  researches.  Having 
this  in  view,  one  day  while  he  was  alone  in  the  parlor 
with  Miss  Virginia,  looking  at  the  picture  of  Mr.  Glad- 
ston,  he  inquired  whether  that  picture  represented  a  good 
likeness  of  her  father.  Receiving  an  affirmative  answer, 
he  said : 

"I  understand  your  father  lived  for  some  time  in  Asi 
atic  Turkey.  Do  you  know  in  what  particular  locality  he 
was  stationed?" 

"My  parents  had  been  living  for  two  years  in  the  city 
of  Mosul,"  answered  Miss  Virginia,  "where  my  father 
was  engaged  in  archaeological  researches  in  a  nearby 
place  called  Nemrud;  and  strange  to  say,  Mosul  is  my 
birth-place,  although  I  do  not  remember  anything  of  it, 
for  I  was  only  seven  months  old  when  I  was  brought  to 
this  country." 

"Is  that  possible!"  exclaimed  Count  Morat,  with  gen>- 
uine  surprise.  "I  know  that  city  very  well,  for  I  lived 
there  myself  for  some  time.  But  could  you  tell  me  some 
thing  about  the  work  accomplished  by  your  father?" 

"With  pleasure,"  answered  Miss  Virginia,  pleasantly. 
"But  I  think  I  can  do  a  little  better  than  that.  Instead 
of  telling  you  what  I  have  heard  of  my  parents,  I  can 
give  you  a  printed  account  in  which  you  will  find  not 


216 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 

only  a  thorough  description  of  the  work  accomplished  in 
Nemrud,  but  the  correct  biography  of  my  father  as  well." 

Saying  this  she  went  to  the  library  and  brought  a 
prettily  bound  volume,  which  she  gave  to  the  Count. 
This  was  more  than  he  could  ever  expect,  for  by  the  writ 
ten  account  surely  he  would  learn  more  than  in  any  other 
way.  His  anxiety  to  examine  the  book  was  so  great, 
that  he  excused  himself  adroitly,  and  left  the  house  hur 
riedly,  carrying  his  book  with  him. 

The  moment  he  reached  his  house,  he  entered  the 
library  and  began  the  reading  of  the  biography  of  Mr. 
Gladston  with  an  unusual  interest,  whereby  he  learned 
the  exact  date  and  length  of  time  Mr.  Gladston  stayed 
in  the  city  of  Mosul.  When  he  compared  the  time  of 
Mr.  Gladston's  return  from  the  country,  with  that  of 
his  trip  there,  he  found  that  it  was  exactly  in  the  same 
spring  of  the  same  year.  "By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed  joy 
ously,  "this  is  then  the  man  of  whom  I  heard  in  Mosul." 
Then  he  continued  reading  until  he  reached  the  passage 
where  Mr.  Gladston's  return  was  described.  Here  he 
stopped  mystified,  and  re-read  the  same  passage,  which 
stated  that  Mr.  Gladston  and  his  party,  while  returning  to 
Europe,  had  crossed  the  Arabian  desert  in  order  to  reach 
the  Mediterranean  coast,  and  that  Mr.  Gladston,  with 
his  wife  and  child  that  was  born  to  them  in  the  city  of 
Mosul,  safely  reached  London,  etc.  "What?"  he  ex 
claimed,  "a  child  that  was  born  to  them  in  Mosul  ?  But 
there  was  no  child  while  the  Gladston  family  was  in  that 
city !"  These  two  details  threw  him  off  the  track  again, 
for  he  did  not  know  how  to  reconcile  them  with  the  facts 
known  to  him.  From  the  information  he  had  about  the 
man  in  the  city  of  Mosul,  there  was  nothing  said  about 


217 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  child;  on  the  contrary  Mr.  Gladston  did  not  have  a 
child  when  he  left  that  city,  and  again,  the  route  he  had 
taken  was  the  northern  one,  leading  to  the  Black  Sea. 
This  was  an  evident  contradiction.  According  to  the 
version  he  knew,  and  that  contained  in  the  book,  there 
would  be  two  Gladstons.  One  who  had  no  child,  and 
took  the  route  going  north  to  Van  and  then  to  the  Black 
Sea,  and  the  other,  who  had  a  child  and  took  the  western 
route  through  the  deserts  of  Mesopotamia,  reaching  the 
Mediterranean  Sea.  Now  the  fact  was  that  there  was 
only  one  Mr.  Gladston,  the  archaeologist,  who  was  in 
Mosul,  and  that  one,  he  knew  positively  had  no  child  and 
had  returned  to  Europe  via  the  Black  Sea.  This  was  de 
cidedly  a  very  complicated  problem.  But  after  all,  he 
thought,  who  knows  whether  Yonan  was  not  right  saying 
that  sometimes  there  were  miracles,  and  if  he  could  solve 
this,  certainly  it  would  be  a  glorious  miracle.  At  this 
juncture  a  thought  like  a  flash  passed  through  his  mind. 
He  thought  of  Yonan  and  the  picture  of  Mr.  Gladston. 
"O,  what  a  splendid  idea,"  he  exclaimed  contentedly. 
The  uncertainty  and  complication  connected  with  the 
matter  commanded  a  strict  precaution.  Accordingly  he 
made  up  his  plan.  Next  day,  in  the  afternoon,  having 
notified  Miss  Virginia  that  he  would  be  with  her,  he  or 
dered  Yonan  to  go  with  him.  Miss  Virginia  received 
the  Count  in  the  parlor,  as  usual,  with  much  courtesy. 
She  was  very  curious  to  know  what  he  had  to  say  in  re 
gard  to  the  contents  of  the  book  she  gave  him  to  read. 
After  a  few  usual  remarks,  the  Count  commenced  to  dis 
cuss  the  merit  of  the  work  accomplished  by  Mr.  Gladston 
in  Nemrud,  throwing  such  flattering  light  on  the  techni 
cality  of  the  work,  as  to  considerably  increase  its  value, 


218 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


which  naturally  aroused  Miss  Virginia's  filial  pride.  As 
an  accessory  to  the  lively  conversation,  Miss  Virginia 
brought  an  album  in  which  she  had  several  photographs 
of  the  city  of  Mosul  and  also  some  of  the  works  at  Nem- 
rud.  This  was  an  excellent  opportunity  for  the  Count  to 
proceed  with  his  plan.  He  thought  again  of  the  miracles. 
In  the  meantime,  while  examining  the  album,  he  remark 
ed  that  these  photographs  would  undoubtedly  interest 
Yonan,  for  they  represented  well  known  localities  to  him, 
and  suggested  that  Yonan  should  come  into  the  parlor  to 
see  them.  Hearing  this  Miss  Virginia  jumped  like  a 
child  to  call  the  Chaldean,  who  was  seated  on  the  porch. 

"Yonan,"  said  Count  Morat  to  the  entering  Chaldean, 
"take  this  album  and  see  whether  you  can  find  in  it  any 
thing  familiar  to  you."  This  he  said  in  English. 

Then  turning  to  Miss  Virginia  he  continued : 

"Have  you  ever  heard  the  Chaldean  language  spoken. 
Miss  Virginia?" 

"No,"  answered  she.  "I  never  heard  it.  but  I  under 
stand  you  frequently  use  that  language  in  conversing 
with  Mr.  Yonan.  do  you?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "I  often  con 
verse  with  Yonan  in  his  language,  and  in  order  that  you 
may  hear  it,  I  shall  speak  to  him  now." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Chaldean  and  said  to  him  in  his 
language  to  look  at  the  picture  hanging  on  the  wall  be 
hind  the  piano  and  see  whether  he  ever  had  seen  its  orig 
inal,  adding,  should  he  have  to  say  anything  about  it,  he 
should  do  so  at  a  more  convenient  time,  meaning  when 
they  were  alone.  In  the  meantime,  Count  Morat  directed 
all  his  attention  to  scrutinously  watching  his  man.  When 
Yonan  looked  at  the  picture,  his  eyes  grew  larger,  and  in 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


a  few  seconds  his  face  was  a  picture  of  great  surprise. 
It  was  an  expression  of  a  man  who  has  found  something 
of  great  value  to  him  in  a  way  that  surprised  him  beyond 
expectation.  Forgetting  for  the  moment  the  order  of  his 
master,  he  began  to  speak  with  agitation,  but  the  Count 
looked  at  him  severely,  and  that  brought  him  to  silence. 
After  this  occurrence,  Count  Morat  felt  perfectly  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  his  experiment,  and  although  he  had 
heard  nothing  of  what  Yonan  intended  to  say,  he  was 
certain  that  the  Chaldean  had  recognized  the  picture. 

Miss  Virginia,  listening  to  the  strange  guttural  sounds 
of  a  language  she  had  never  heard  before,  paid  little  at 
tention  to  the  peculiar  movements  of  the  Chaldean.  She 
saw  him  looking  at  the  picture  of  her  father,  but  she 
never  thought  this  was  done  at  the  command  of  the  Count. 

"It  does  not  sound  very  musical,"  said  Miss  Virginia, 
smiling.  "It  is  rather  harsh  to  our  ears,  this  Chaldean 
language." 

"Nevertheless,  very  useful,"  answered  the  Count, 
laughing  heartily.  This  he  said  as  though  to  give  ex 
pression  to  the  valuable  experiment  he  was  conducting. 
The  case  was,  that  he  was  very  anxious  to  bring  Yonan 
into  the  parlor  and  let  him  look  at  the  picture  represent 
ing  Mr.  Gladston.  But  he  could  not  think  of  any  way 
to  accomplish  this  without  exposing  his  scheme  to  Yonan, 
whose  ignorance  of  the  plan  conceived  was  the  very  neces 
sary  condition  for  the  experiment.  Now  that  success 
was  the  evident  result,  his  attention  was  directed  to  the 
other  half  of  his  plan,  which  was  that  Miss  Virginia 
should  not  be  acquainted  with  this  important  fact,  until 
the  proper  time  had  come.  This  was  easily  done,  thanks 
to  the  use  of  the  Chaldean  language.  Thus,  having  ac- 


220 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


complished  his  purpose,  Count  Morat  devoted  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  to  conversation  with  Miss  Virginia  on 
the  archaeological  achievements  of  Nemrud  fame. 

Having  returned  to  his  residence,  Count  Morat,  enter 
ing  his  library,  said  to  Yonan : 

"Now  is  the  time  to  speak.  Now  you  can  tell  me  what 
you  wanted  to  say  while  in  the  parlor  at  Miss  Virginia's 
house." 

Yonan  did  not  wait  to  be  told  again. 

"Master,"  he  said,  with  the  tone  of  a  man  whose  cer 
tainty  stands  above  all  doubts,  "the  picture  I  saw  in  the 
parlor  is  the  exact  picture  of  the  Englishman  I  saw  in 
Orfa.  He  is  the  man,  O  Master,  he  is  the  man,  who  car 
ried  away  our  princess,  and  the  princess,  as  I  told  you, 
is " 

"Don't  be  hasty  in  your  conclusions,"  interrupted  the 
Count.  "You  had  better  tell  me,  if  you  can,  what  makes 
you  so  sure  of  your  statement?  This  happened  so  long 
ago--" 

"Master,"  replied  Yonan,  "it  is  true  this  happened 
twenty-four  years  ago,  but,  O  Lord!  even  if  it  were  a 
hundred  years  ago  I  could  never  forget  the  face  of  the 
man  who  took  the  little  darling  away  from  my  arms.  O 
Master !  the  whole  case  is  clear  to  me.  Both  the  princess 
and  the  man  who  took  her  away  are  in  that  house  on 
Adams  street." 

"Unfortunately,"  said  Count  Morat  sadly,  "the  man 
whom  that  picture  represents  died  long  ago.  But,  if  our 
suppositions  are  correct,  we  have  enough  evidence  to  con 
clude  that  we  have  found  what  we  were  looking  for  all 
these  long  and  tedious  years.  However,  before  I  do  any 
thing  more,  I  want  you,  Yonan,  to  look  at  that  picture 


221 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


again,  whenever  you  have  an  opportunity  without  attract 
ing  attention,  and  ascertain  whether  you  are  not  mis 
taken  in  asserting  that  this  is  the  man  you  saw  in  Orfa. 
Now  leave  me." 

Count  Morat  felt  intoxicated  with  joy.  If  all  the  evi 
dence  now  on  hand  were  true,  certainly  the  problem  was 
solved  without  the  slightest  doubt.  Then  he  began  to  re 
view  this  evidence.  What  was  it?  "First,  the  striking 
resemblance  of  Miss  Virginia  to  my  brother,  which  is  un 
doubtedly  very  remarkable,"  he  thought.  "Second,  the 
age  of  the  girl  corresponding  to  the  time  elapsed  since 
my  brother's  death.  Third,  the  time  of  Mr.  Gladston's 
return  from  Mesopotamia,  coinciding  with  that  of  the 
death  of  my  brother,  and  the  disappearance  of  his  child. 
Fourth,  the  birth-mark,  which  is  quite  an  unmistakable 
indicator  of  the  identity  of  the  lost  child.  Fifth,  the  ad 
mission  that  Miss  Virginia  was  born  about  that  time  and 
in  that  country;  and  finally,  Sixth,  the  positiveness  of 
Yonan  that  Mr.  Gladston's  picture  represents  the  man 
who  took  the  child.  Now  the  question  arises,"  he  went 
on  thinking,  "whether,  notwithstanding  all  this  evidence, 
I  am  not  mistaken.  A  little  inaccuracy  in  the  given  dates 
and  names  is  apt  to  change  the  whole  situation.  Here 
is  one  instance ;  how  to  explain  the  duality  of  Mr.  Glad 
ston's  person?  There  is  one  who  has  a  child,  and  the 
other  has  not.  Leaving  the  city  of  Mosul,  one  Gladston 
goes  to  the  north,  and  the  other  to  the  west.  Does  not 
this  conclusively  show  that  no  matter  how  strong  the  case 
might  seem  in  favor  of  my  interpretation  of  the  events, 
it  would  be  folly  to  assert  that  I  am  absolutely  correct  in 
my  conclusions?  After  all,  perhaps  time,  the  greatest 
factor  in  the  readjustment  of  all  things,  might  possibly 


222 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    DISCOVERY. 


throw  the  necessary  light  on  the  subject.  Until  then," 
he  concluded,  "I  must  wait  patiently.  If  I  am  on  the 
right  track,  it  won't  be  long  before  the  denouement  will 
follow." 

Here  Count  Morat,  following  the  oriental  custom,  clap 
ped  his  hands,  and  when  Yonan  appeared,  ordered  a  pipe. 
It  was  a  necessity  for  him  to  smoke  when  he  was  think 
ing.  This  is  invariably  the  case  with  all  thinkers  who 
are  smokers.  Having  drawn  a  couple  of  puffs  from  his 
aromatic  kalyon,  Count  Morat  fell  to  musing.  "O  what 
a  complicated  problem,"  he  thought.  "Were  I  a  believer 
in  the  doctrine  of  heredity,  such  as  taught  by  some  of  our 
contemporaries,  how  little  would  I  have  to  hesitate  in 
reaching  my  conclusions.  But  unfortunately  this  theory 
indicates  nothing  but  the  short-sightedness  of  those  who 
believe  in  it.  Be  heredity  a  natural  law,  it  would  neces 
sarily  remain  as  firm,  as  uniform,  as  the  rest  of  the  laws 
governing  our  little  horizon,  that  we  know.  A  natural 
law  is  an  established  order  subservient  to  its  causes,  and 
as  such  has  that  peculiar  characteristic  of  stability,  which 
absolutely  excludes  all  that  might  indicate  mutability. 
This  we  observe  in  laws  known  to  us  in  physics,  chemis 
try  and  in  all  other  branches  of  natural  science ;  but  that 
is  not  the  case  with  the  so-called  heredity,  especially  when 
by  this  is  meant  the  transmission  of  parental  moral  char 
acteristics  to  children.  Were  such  a  heredity  a  law,  all 
the  children  of  a  thief  necessarily  would  be  thieves,  which 
is  not  so.  We  have  a  mass  of  evidence  in  the  fact,  that 
many  men  born  of  disreputable  parents  have  become  men 
of  international  fame,  with  highly  developed  senses  of 
good,  justice  and  beauty  as  the  highest  ideals  of  man 
kind.  While  on  the  other  hand  we  have  men  of  the  low- 


223 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


est  tendencies,  born  of  the  most  respectable  parents.  It 
is  well  known  to  the  world  that  the  greatest  thieves,  who 
stole  not  by  the  thousand,  but  by  the  millions,  who  ruined 
countries  and  whole  kingdoms,  were  children  of  honest, 
law-abiding  people.  As  a  rule,  men  for  high  positions 
in  communities  are  selected  amongst  those  of  good  par 
entage  and  established  family  reputations,  and  singularly 
enough,  it  is  amongst  those  that  we  find  the  greatest  ras 
cals,  greatest  prevaricators.  A  great  number  of  pervert 
ed  natures  we  find  amongst  the  children  of  good  parent 
age;  and  again,  in  a  family  of  an  intelligent  couple,  a 
stupid,  an  idiot  is  born,  while  from  amongst  the  lowest 
classes  intellectually,  have  men  risen  to  statesmanship  of 
great  merit.  Were  heredity  a  law,  how  could  such  a 
monstrosity  take  place  in  the  bosom  of  nature?  Because 
diseased  parents  produce  sickly  children,  it  does  not  fol 
low  that  moral  perversities  unfolded  in  them  are  subject 
to  the  same  ruling  which  governs  the  physical  only.  Be 
sides,  the  admission  of  heredity  as  a  law,  contradicts  the 
main  construction  of  causality  which  is  actuated  by  the 
individual  merits,  and  not  by  those  of  parents.  Thus  fol 
lowing  this  order  of  things,  I  am  forced  to  conclude  that 
an  evidence  based  upon  a  resemblance  actually  does  not 
mean  anything.  We  hear  very  often  of  doubles,  which 
means,  that  there  are  men  and  women  entirely  strangers 
one  to  another  as  far  as  family  ties  go,  yet  resembling 
each  other  to  such  an  extent,  that  oftentimes  one  is  taken 
for  the  other.  A  resemblance  no  matter  how  perfect 
does  not  always  indicate  that  it  owes  its  origin  to  family 
ties.  We  may  reason  as  we  please,  but  the  fact  remains 
that  heredity  cannot  be  classed  in  the  set  of  laws  gov 
erning  human  beings.  The  word  heredity,  like  the  word 


224 


ON    THE   WAY   TO    DISCOVERY. 


chance,  covers  an  unknown  ground  to  the  masses,  as  well 
as  to  scientists  who  are  not  capable  of,  going  beyond  the 
limits  of  gross  matter.  As  long  as  the  real  causes  re 
main  unknown,  the  heredity  will  go  on  playing  its  role 
of  an  unknown  quantity." 

"Master,"  said  Yonan,  entering  the  room,  "you  wished 
me  to  remind  you  that  the  reunion  takes  place  tonight  at 
Mr.  Milton's  house." 

"O  yes;  very  well,  then;  I  am  going.  Have  the  car 
riage  at  seven-thirty  for  half  an  hour's  ride,  and  then  we 
will  drive  to  Mr.  Milton's  house." 


225 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


"When  I  tell  you,  there  is  no  use  of  arguing  with  a 
lawyer,  especially  when  you  are  not  a  lawyer  yourself,  I 
know  what  I  am  talking  about,"  declared  Mr.  Irving, 
addressing  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"Why,  is  it  because  this  subject  does  not  interest  you  ?" 
inquired  the  doctor. 

"No,  no,  by  jingo,  it  is  not  that,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ir 
ving.  "Don't  you  catch  the  point?  When  a  lawver 
means  to  defend  his  case,  he  will  do  so,  no  matter  what 
happens  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  don't  you  see?" 

"Well,  that  is  the  only  proper  thing  to  do  for  a  lawyer 
who  honestly  believes  in  his  case,"  remarked  Dr.  Darling. 
"But,  of  course  there  are  always  two  sides  in  every  case. 
Before  you  can  come  to  some  definite  conclusion  in  re 
gard  to  a  given  case,  you  must  hear  the  other  side  too." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "when  I  was  asked  to 
state  my  opinion  in  the  case,  I  did  so,  adding,  that  this 
was  not  only  my  opinion,  but  my  strong  conviction  as 
well " 


226 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 

"That  the  girl  who  committed  the  forgery  was  as  in 
nocent  as  a  newly  born  child,"  ended  Dr.  Ihringier,  sar 
castically. 

"Yes,  innocent  as  far  as  it  goes  for  the  committed  act," 
affirmed  Mr.  Milton. 

"There  you  are,  did  not  I  tell  you?  But  what  is  the 
use?"  shouted  Mr.  Irving,  looking  for  an  ash  tray  for 
his  cigar. 

"This  sounds  pretty  good  for  the  accused  girl,"  joined 
Dr.  Darling.  "But,  in  order  to  make  us  believe  the  way 
he  does  he  ought  to  explain  his  ground." 

"You  give  him  a  chance,  and  he  will  explain  it  to  you, 
I  am  sure,"  said  the  firm  voice  of  Count  Morat,  entering 
the  room. 

"By  Jove !  We  have  been  waiting  for  you,  Count," 
cried  Mr.  Irving,  gaily.  Now  we  are  complete.  How 
do  you  do,  Count?" 

The  above  animated  conversation  took  place  in  the 
parlor  of  Mr.  Milton's  house.  It  was  one  of  their  regu 
lar  meetings  that  this  time  was  held  there. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Milton?"  inquired  Count  Morat,  shak 
ing  hands  with  Mr.  Milton. 

"She  is  not  well,"  answered  Mr.  Milton,  offering  him 
a  chair ;  "owing  to  a  little  indisposition,  she  has  been  con 
fined  to  her  room  all  day.  I  am  sorry  she  cannot  be 
with  us  tonight." 

"I  hope  nothing  serious,"  remarked  the  Count,  taking 
the  offered  chair;  then  turning  to  those  in  the  room,  he 
said : 

"Don't  let  me  interrupt  you.  What  is  it  you  are  so 
vigorously  debating  about?  Anything  interesting?" 

"Very  interesting,"  answered  Dr.  Ihringier.     "We  are 


227 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


discussing  a  case  which  some  time  ago  the  court  confided 
to  Mr.  Milton.  It  is  a  case  of  forgery  committed  by  a 
young  girl,  whom  Mr.  Milton  defends " 

"And  of  course  he  says,"  interrupted  Mr.  Irving,  "that 
the  girl  is  innocent " 

"As  a  newly  born  child,"  ended  the  doctor. 

"That  does  not  seem  credible,  after  the  saying  that  the 
forgery  was  committed,  does  it?"  inquired  Dr.  Darling. 

"The  saying  that  the  forgery  was  committed,  does  not 
necessarily  mean  that  it  was  committed  by  the  accused," 
said  Count  Morat  thoughtfully.  "It  depends  altogether 
upon  what  you  understand  by  the  terms  you  are  using." 

"The  terms  are  quite  clear,"  answered  Dr.  Darling. 
"The  question  now  is,  on  what  Mr.  Milton  bases  his  opin 
ion,  declaring  his  client  innocent  of  the  crime  with  which 
she  is  charged." 

"The  basis  I  built  my  theory  upon  is,  the  lack  of  un 
derstanding  of  the  importance  of  the  act  committed  by 
the  girl,"  answered  Mr.  Milton,  with  the  imperturbable 
air  of  a  man  who  knows  his  case  well. 

"Unfortunately,"  remarked  Dr.  Darling,  "such  an  ex 
cuse  has  no  standing  in  the  face  of  existing  laws." 

"That  is  quite  true,  and  this  is  why  we  need  new  laws 
to  regulate  cases  like  this,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "For  the 
validity  of  a  criminal  act,  especially  when  we  deal  with  a 
case  like  the  one  in  question,  an  absolute  spontaneity  as 
well  as  the  explicit  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  com 
mitted  act,  should  be  required." 

"My  dear  sir,  there  is  no  act  committed  unknowingly 
and  unwillingly,  especially  when  such  an  act  is  against  the 
established  laws  and  morals,"  emphatically  declared  Dr. 
Darling.  "Ignorance  of  the  existing  laws,  or  of  the  im- 


228 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


portance  of  a  given  criminal  act,  is  inexcusable,  especial 
ly  when  we  consider  that  there  are  principles  of  morality 
which  God  has  imprinted  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  those 
must  be  observed  and  obeyed.  The  infringement  of  these 
laws  justly  calls  for  the  imposition  of  penalty." 

"The  statement  you  make,  my  dear  Dr.  Darling,  can 
not  bear  analysis,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "If,  as  you 
say,  there  are  principles  of  morality  imprinted  by  God 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  all  men  are  created  by  God,  it 
necessarily  would  follow  that  those  principles  must  be 
the  same  all  over  the  world;  but  this  is  not  the  case;  for 
we  know  what  is  considered  moral  in  one  country  or  place, 
is  known  as  immoral  in  another.  Polygamy  was  consider 
ed  by  the  Jews  not  only  moral,  but  a  highly  commendable 
institution,  which  originated  by  God-chosen  men.  Mo 
hammedans  practice  it  today,  and  even  some  Christians, 
like  Mormons,  have  it  in  the  tenet  of  their  religion. 
While  we,  having  a  contrary  conception  of  it,  when  we 
find  a  man  who  has  more  than  one  wife — we  are  not 
speaking  now  of  concubines — we  send  him  to  the  peni 
tentiary.  In  our  understanding,  when  a  woman  marries 
a  man,  she  becomes  his  wife  and  only  his  alone.  Should 
she  permit  any  undue  relations  with  another  man,  she  is 
pointed  out  as  an  immoral  woman,  and  consequently  a 
law  suit  against  her  is  established  for  divorce.  While 
in  a  big  country  like  Thibet,  in  Asia,  when  a  woman  mar 
ries  a  man,  she  becomes  not  only  his  wife,  but  also  the 
wife  of  all  his  brothers.  Should  she  refuse  to  practice 
polyandry,  she  would  be  considered  highly  immoral,  and 
as  such  would  become  an  object  of  contempt  to  the  mul 
titude.  To  kill  a  man,  is  a  perfectly  abominable  act,  for 
which  our  tribunals  of  justice  will  send  to  the  electric 


229 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


chair  any  man  who  commits  such  an  offence.  But  if  you 
would  go  to  live  amongst  Kurds  and  Christian  mountain 
eers  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  you  would  learn,  as  I  did,  that  to 
kill  a  man  does  not  mean  anything  wrong;  on  the  con 
trary,  it  is  considered  by  those  people  as  a  very  commend 
able  act.  I  have  been  many  a  time  a  witness  at  the 
gathering  of  those  people,  who  tell  their  story  of  killing 
men  as  an  act  of  great  heroism  and  distinction.  The  man 
who  killed  the  most,  is  the  greatest  hero,  and  as  such  be 
comes  an  idol  to  the  fair  sex  of  his  race.  We  have  some 
thing  analogous  amongst  the  civilized  nations.  It  is 
called  by  the  fashionable  name  of  duel.  One  kills  another 
to  save  his  honor.  In  other  words,  to  establish  his  honor, 
he  must  kill  his  adversary.  Ordinarily  this  honorary 
killing  is  committed  by  men  of  high  social  standing  and 
culture,  in  most  cases  the  cause  of  it  being  a  smile  of  a 
frivolous  woman.  But,  of  course  this  goes,  because  it 
is  fashionable.  These  and  many  other  similar  illustra 
tions  show  that,  what  you  call  moral  principles,  are  not 
the  same  everywhere,  and  much  less  are  they  principles 
imprinted  in  the  hearts  of  men  as  you  are  pleased  to 
assert." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Dr.  Darling,  "you  deny  the  fact 
that  moral  principles  are  of  divine  origin?  If  so,  how 
do  you  account  for  the  existence  of  these  principles, 
which  constitute  the  only  safeguard  of  our  welfare?" 

"The  accounting  is  very  simple,"  replied  Count  Morat. 
"Conceptions  of  good  and  evil  are  entirely  human,  as  hu 
man  as  all  the  rest  we  find  in  man,  and  as  such  they  have 
been  originated  by  the  necessities  of  human  life,  their 
development  being  subjected  entirely  to  the  development 
of  human  intellect.  The  more  refined  you  are  the  higher 


230 


THEOLDMANPLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


is  the  standard  of  your  ideals.  Upon  this  fact  rest  the 
differences  we  find  amongst  nations  and  individuals  in 
regard  to  the  conception  they  have  of  good  and  evil,  and 
upon  this  basis  nations  enact  laws  and  regulations  to 
govern  their  countries." 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  case,"  remarked 
Mr.  Milton.  "The  civil  laws  which  are  to  define  good 
and  evil,  have  been  constantly  subject  to  this  evolution 
of  human  intellect.  The  laws  by  which  the  most  ad 
vanced  nations  have  been  governed  in  the  ages  past,  have 
been  radically  modified  or  altogether  abandoned  in  order 
to  meet  the  new  requirements  of  continually  advancing 
humanity.  Conceptions  of  beauty,  refinement,  goodness, 
duties  and  justice  of  today  are  as  day  to  night  when  com 
pared  with  those  in  the  past.  Here  I  have  a  very  curious 
fact  which  fairly  well  illustrates  the  evolution  in  concep 
tions.  In  Bailey's  English  dictionary,  printed  in  London 
in  1740,  a  very  scarce  book,  I  read  the  following: 

"  'Free  Bench,  the  custom  of  the  Manors  of  East  and 
West  Embourn,  Chadleworth  in  the  County  of  Berks, 
Tor  in  Devonshire,  and  other  places  of  the  West,  that  if 
a  customary  Tenant  die,  the  Widow  shall  have  her  Free- 
Bench  in  all  his  Copyhold  Land.  Dnm  Sola  ct  casta 
fuerit.  (As  long  as  she  remains  alone  and  chaste,)  but, 
if  she  commit  Incontinency,  she  forfeits  her  Estate;  yet 
if  she  will  come  into  the  Court,  riding  backwards  on  a 
black  Ram,  with  his  Tail  in  her  Hand,  and  say  the  words 
following,  the  Steward  is  bound  by  the  Custom  to  re 
admit  her  to  her  Free-Bench. 

Here  I  am, 

Riding  upon  a  black  Ram, 

Like  a as  I  am; 


231 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


And  for  my  Crincum  Crancum, 
Have  lost  my  Bincum  Bancum; 

And  for  my  — Game, 

Have  done  this  worldly  Shame; 
Therefore,  I  pray  you,  Mr.  Steward,  let  me  have 
my  land  again.'    (*) 

"How  does  this  sound?  This  was  practiced  in  the 
days  when  the  English  public  was  reading  Shakespeare's 
writings.  Would  anyone  today  permit  such  a  practice 
as  that?  Certainly  not.  In  connection  with  this  there 
comes  to  my  mind  an  episode  in  the  history  of  our  own 
country,  which  shows  that  what  was  good  in  the  past 
does  not  necessarily  remain  such  forever,  for  it  would 
be  against  the  law  of  evolution  in  conceptions.  A  com 
pany  of  Boston  colonists  founded  a  new  city  and  called 
it  New  Haven.  They  needed  a  constitution  by  which 
this  new  organization  could  be  governed.  Accordingly, 
in  1639,  tne  settlers  held  a  convention  and  solemnly  and 
unanimously  adopted  the  old  Jewish  book,  the  Bible,  as 
a  constitution  of  the  newly  created  State!  The  govern 
ment  was  called  the  'House  of  Wisdom,'  and  seven  of 
the  leading  men  were  called  Seven  Pillars.  Theophilus 
Eaton,  first  and  greatest  of  the  Pillars,  was  chosen  gov 
ernor  for  twenty  years  consecutively.  But,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  the  colonists  they  found  out  that  the  Bible 
could  not  regulate  the  advanced  life  of  new  Americans 
and  consequently  they  were  forced  by  necessity  to  formu 
late  a  new  constitution,  which  now  governs  the  glorious 
State  of  Connecticut.  This  was  nearly  three  hundred 
years  ago;  but  less  than  one  hundred  years  ago  in  most 


(*)     The  two  omitted  words  are  too  offensive    to    be    printed 
here. 


232 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


of  the  European  countries  they  used  to  imprison  those 
unfortunate  persons  who  were  not  able  to  pay  their  debts. 
Our  charming-  State  of  Georgia  owes  its  origin  to  this 
barbarism,  for  by  a  charter  dated  June  9th,  1732,  that 
State  was  organized  for  the  protection  of  those  exiled 
from  English  prisons,  where  they  had  been  imprisoned 
for  not  paying  their  debts,  and  the  State  thus  organized 
assumed  its  name  from  the  grantor,  George  of  England. 
From  these  and  thousands  of  other  instances  we  see  that 
conceptions  of  good  and  evil  have  been  constantly  chang 
ing  with  the  progress  our  race  has  been  making.  The 
old  Latin  classics  used  to  say :  'Times  are  changing  and 
men  with  them,'  but  it  would  be  far  truer  to  say,  'Our 
conceptions  are  changing  and  times  with  them.' ' 

"That  is  all  well,"  said  Mr.  Irving,  wisely.  "But  now 
let  me  ask  you  a  question,  why  are  our  conceptions 
changing?" 

"Simply  because  we  are  growing,"  was  the  answer. 

"That  does  not  explain  anything,"  remarked  Dr. 
Ihringier.  "We  are  growing  for  a  few  years,  then  comes 
death,  and  that  is  the  end  of  our  growth.  New  people 
come,  they  grow,  and  they  follow  us  in  oblivion.  Does 
this  teach  anything?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "It  teaches  us 
a  great  deal.  When  you  say  new  people  come,  you  cer 
tainly  mean  that  those  new  comers,  are  new  comers,  in 
other  words  that  they  are  the  first  time  on  our  earth,  for 
getful  of  the  most  empirical  truth  that  there  is  nothing 
new  coming  in  our  world.  Besides,  if  every  new  genera 
tion  presented  a  new  set  of  people  for  the  first  time  on 
this  planet,  each  of  those  generations  would  necessarily 
have  to  pass  through  the  experiences  of  primitive  man. 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


But  this  is  not  the  case.  Every  new  generation,  as  we 
know  well,  is  decidedly  a  great  improvement  upon  the 
preceding  one.  The  generation  before  us  was  much  more 
advanced  than  the  generation  before  it.  We  today  are 
more  advanced  than  any  generation  before  us.  The  one 
coming  after  us  will  be  still  more  advanced,  and  so  on 
for  millions  of  years  to  come.  This  shows  that  there  is 
no  new  generation  coming." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Count,  that  the  present  genera 
tion  is  the  same  which  was  before?"  inquired  Dr.  Dar 
ling,  somewhat  astounded. 

"Exactly,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "There  is  nothing 
new  on  our  planet.  All  there  is,  has  been,  and  will  be." 

"Why,  this  is  metempsychosis  or  transmigration  of 
souls,  if  you  please,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Darling.  "Do  you 
really  believe  in  what  you  say?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  replied  the  Count.  "Not  only  I  be 
lieve,  but  this  is  my  firm  conviction.  No  intelligent  man 
who  can  rationally  reason  can  help  seeing  the  actual  truth 
in  this  order  of  things." 

"What  order  of  things?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I 
have  been  here  before?"  asked  Mr.  Irving,  somewhat  hes 
itatingly. 

"And  how  many  times,  no  one  can  tell,"  was  the  reply. 
"Were  you  to  be  here  for  the  first  time,  you  would  be  in 
a  form  entirely  forgotten  by  our  race.  For  during  the 
three  hundred  thousand  years  of  the  evolution  of  man, 
many  primitive  forms  have  disappeared  long  ago,  the 
most  recent  of  them  being  the  anthropoid  ape,  the  man 
before  the  bushman  of  Africa." 

"This  is  certainly  a  mixture  of  modern  evolution  with 


234 


THEOLDMANPLATOKNEWITWELL. 

the  old  conception  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,"  re 
marked  Dr.  Darling. 

"Yes,  indeed,  it  is  the  old  knowledge  of  the  re-embodi 
ment  of  souls,"  resumed  Count  Morat,  greatly  amused 
with  the  astonishment  of  his  friend  the  theologian.  "In 
fact  many  thousand  years  older  than  the  Christian  re 
ligion,  and  well  known  to  Greeks  during  the  days  when 
they  were  leaders  in  civilization.  The  old  man  Plato 
knew  it  well.  He  used  to  discuss  it  with  his  friends  the 
way  we  are  doing  now.  But,  after  all,  you  may  give  it 
any  name  you  please,  that  will  not  change  the  situation. 
Either  we  have  to  accept  science  as  a  source  of  knowl 
edge,  or  reject  it  as  a  superstition  like  those  belonging 
to  past  ages  and  now  forgotten." 

"But,  pardon  me,"  interrupted  Dr.  Ihringier,  "science 
does  not  know  anything  about  this  order  of  things.  Don't 
make  science  your  scapegoat,  for  science  is  the  highest 
expression  of  the  best  of  human  experiences,  and  as  such 
cannot  be  suspected  of  teaching  things  which  it  does  not 
know." 

"O  how  inconsistent  you  are,  my  dear  friend,"  re 
marked  Count  Morat.  "Does  not  science  affirm  that 
there  is  no  new  matter  coming  on  our  globe?" 

"Yes,  it  does;  what  of  it?"  asked  the  Doctor. 

"If  it  does  affirm  that  there  is  no  new  matter  coming, 
how  do  you  make  up  your  new  man?"  inquired  Count 
Morat. 

"The  newly  born  man  is  made  up  of  the  old  atoms,  of 
course,"  said  the  physician,  caught  in  his  own  trap.    "But 
you  are  telling  Mr.  Irving  that  he  has  been  here  before ; 
how  can  that  be?" 


235 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Why,  if  his  body  is  made  up  of  old  atoms,  does  not 
that  indicate  that  he  has  been  here  before?" 

"As  atoms,  yes,  but  not  as  a  body  of  Mr.  Irving," 
suggested  the  Doctor. 

"But  why  do  you  attach  such  a  particular  meaning  to 
the  body  of  Mr.  Irving.  Do  you  think  he  is  anything 
different  from  other  men  ?"  asked  Count  Morat. 

"Why  certainly,"  stated  Dr.  Ihringier,  "he  is  different 
from  other  men  as  much  as  we  are.  Each  one  of  us  is 
unique  for  himself.  This  is  evident  from  the  fact  that 
each  man  has  his  peculiar  personality  which  differs  from 
others." 

"O  how  delightfully  well  you  are  approaching  the 
point,"  resumed  Count  Morat,  laughing  heartily.  "It  is 
due  to  your  knowledge  of  science  that  you  are  advancing 
so  wonderfully  well.  When  I  alluded  to  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Irving  was  here  before,  I  meant  what  I  said,  namely, 
that  which  makes  Mr.  Irving  what  he  is,  and  not  his 
physical  body  as  he  has  it  now;  that  is  to  say  his  im 
mortal  soul,  which  is  the  maker  of  his  personality.  On 
the  subject  of  the  human  soul,  we  have  had  a  long  discus 
sion  before,  so  I  will  not  repeat  it.  It  remains  to  be 
added  however,  that  the  soul  of  each  of  us  repeatedly 
takes  a  physical  body,  and  this  implies  that  Mr.  Irving's 
soul,  mine,  yours,  and  everybody  else's,  has  been  here 
before,  and  after  this  life  will  come  again  and  again, 
until  it  outgrows  the  earthly  attractions  which  regulate 
its  continuous  embodiments." 

"And  you  claim  this  teaching  based  upon  science?" 
asked  Dr.  Ihringier. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "Were  I  not  able 
to  demonstrate  this  scientifically  to  my  own  satisfaction, 


236 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


I  could  not  accept  it.  To  me  it  is  as  clear  as  the  simplest 
mathematical  rule  to  you.  We  know  we  exist,  and  many 
of  us  know  that  we  have  existed  before." 

"On  this  earth,  as  an  entity,  a  human  being?"  inquired 
Dr.  Ihringier  again. 

"Why,  a  human  being,  certainly,"  said  the  Count. 
"You  could  not  think  for  a  moment  that  you  could  be 
anything  but  human,  for  such  an  alternative  would  mean 
deterioration,  and  that  is  decidedly  against  the  tenden 
cies  of  all  natural  laws.  Ovid's  metamorphosis  is  an 
Utopian  fancy." 

"Then,  according  to  that,  if  I  have  been  here  before 
why  do  I  not  remember  anything  about  it?"  asked  the 
Doctor. 

"Simply  because  you  have  not  grown  yet  to  that  stage 
of  spiritual  development  which  enables  man  to  remember 
his  past  lives,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "But  there  are 
others  who  do.  They  remember  several  lives  very  dis 
tinctly.  Of  these  you  don't  hear  much,  because  it  is  not 
in  fashion  to  speak  about  it.  Besides,  human  memory  is 
always  conditional  with  the  acuteness  of  the  interest  one 
takes  in  his  surroundings.  You  may  see  thousands  of 
things  in  one  hour  and  forget  them  in  the  next.  This 
usually  happens  when  you  are  not  interested  in  the  things 
you  see.  And  again  you  remember  things  in  your  child 
hood  by  which  you  were  impressed  more  forcibly  than 
with  other  things.  This  impression  is  caused  by  the 
awakening  of  your  interest  in  those  particular  things. 
But  even  those  impressions,  no  matter  how  strong  they 
may  appear  to  be,  you  forget  gradually  as  you  grow. 
This  happens  in  this  our  short  life.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  a  man  of  an  average  development  does  not  remem- 


237 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


her  his  past  lives?  Again,  when  you  consider  that  each 
new  life  is  an  improvement  upon  the  previous  one,  you 
can  see  for  yourself  there  is  no  reason  why  one  should 
remember  it." 

"In  that  case,  what  is  the  use  of  these  repetitions  of 
lives?"  asked  Dr.  Darling,  becoming  quite  interested  in 
the  subject. 

"But  why  do  you  think  that  the  remembrance  of  past 
lives  should  constitute  such  an  important  item?  You 
have  worn  many  shirts.  Do  you  remember  all  the 
shirts  you  have  used  in  your  life?"  inquired  Count 
Morat. 

"No.  I  do  not  remember  all  my  old  shirts,"  replied 
Dr.  Darling.  "But  I  remember  certain  facts  about 
them,  and  that  I  utilize  whenever  necessity  occurs.  For 
instance:  I  never  buy  a  night  shirt  with  a  collar.  This 
I  do  simply  because  formerly  when  I  used  to  wear  those 
with  collars,  I  always  experienced  an  excessive  heat 
around  my  neck,  and  this  is  why  I  decided  not  to  have 
any  more  of  them." 

"O  what  a  splendid  illustration !"  exclaimed  Count 
Morat,  joyously.  "I  could  not  find  anything  better. 
But  before  I  will  utilize  it  let  me  ask  you  one  more  ques 
tion.  When  you  go  now  to  buy  a  collarless  shirt,  do 
you  think  of  your  experiences  with  those  with  collars? 
In  other  words,  when  you  stand  before  a  counter  in  a 
store,  where  you  order  your  shirt,  does  it  occur  to  you  to 
think,  that  because  formerly  the  collar  of  your  shirt 
caused  an  excessive  heat  around  your  neck,  you  will  now 
buy  one  without  a  collar?  Does  ever  such  a  formula 
pass  through  your  head?" 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  Dr.  Darling.      When    I    do  my 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


purchasing  now,  I  do  not  think  of  my  past  experiences 
at  all.  I  simply  buy  the  thing  I  want." 

"That  is  it,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "As  clumsy  as 
the  given  illustration  is,  it  represents  the  exact  picture 
of  the  experiences  we  have  acquired  in  our  past  lives. 
We  do  certain  things,  which  oftentimes  differ  very 
much  from  the  doings  of  others,  without  knowing  why 
we  do  so.  But  considering  that  we  act  always  according 
to  a  certain  knowledge  within  us,  whether  explicit  or  im 
plicit,  and  that  no  knowledge  can  he  acquired  without 
experience  of  some  kind,  it  becomes  evident  that  we  must 
have  had  experiences  which  formulated  our  determina 
tion  to  act  the  way  we  do.  When  you  were  a  boy,  ac 
cording  to  what  I  heard  from  you,  you  wanted  to  be  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  a  priest  of  your  church,  without 
knowing  why  you  wanted  so.  You  had  opportunities  to 
be  a  merchant,  a  mechanic ;  but  you  chose  to  be  a 
priest.  You  knew  you  wanted  to  be  a  priest,  but  you 
don't  know  perhaps  even  now,  why." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Dr.  Darling,  trying  to  recollect 
impressions  of  his  younger  days.  "I  wanted  to  be  a 
priest,  because  in  my  boyhood  I  was  raised  in  an  atmos 
phere  which  was  permeated  with  churchly  life.  I  liked 
the  church  as  a  structure  and  as  an  institution,  and  I  ad 
mired  its  ceremonials  very  much.  I  liked  to  see  our  rec 
tor  with  his  tall  and  imposing  figure  in  his  black  cas 
sock.  I  loved  to  look  at  the  snow-white  surplices  worn 
by  those  within  the  sanctuary.  I  knew  that  it  was  a  good 
thing  to  be  priest,  and  this  is  why  I  became  one." 

"Is  it  not  remarkable  that  even  a  theologian  should 
not  know  the  fundamental  laws  of  causation !"  remarked 
Count  Morat,  as  though  speaking  to  himself.  Then 


239 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


turning  to  his  interlocutor,  he  continued :  "If  you  will 
look  closely  into  the  matter,  you  will  easily  discover  that 
what  you  thought  attracted  you,  was  not  the  real  cause 
of  your  becoming  a  priest,  for,  while  you  were  attending 
the  church  and  admiring  its  ceremonials,  you  used  to  see 
and  like  other  things  as  well.  You  spent  more  days  in 
your  father's  store,  than  hours  in  your  church.  Oftener 
you  went  to  the  carriage  factory  of  your  uncle  than  to 
your  parish  church.  You  liked  the  store  and  the  factory 
very  well.  Yet,  you  did  not  become  either  a  merchant 
like  your  father,  nor  a  mechanic  like  your  uncle.  Here 
it  another  illustration:  Our  friend  and  host,  Mr.  Mil 
ton,  had  a  father  who  was  a  banker.  A  successful  bank 
er's  life  ought  to  be  a  great  attraction;  yet,  this  son  of 
his  did  not  follow  his  occupation.  Here  we  have  him, 
busying  himself  with  other  people's  troubles  and  reading 
law.  Mr.  Milton's  father  in  his  turn,  had  an  experience 
which  was  peculiarly  his  own.  He  was  a  physician  with 
quite  a  practice  in  his  native  city  of  New  York.  He 
left  the  yEsculapian  dignity  for  the  life  of  a  financier,  a 
banker,  if  you  please.  When  we  ask  'why'  in  each  of 
these  instances,  invariably  we  hear  a  'because'  similar  to 
the  one  advanced  by  our  friend  Dr.  Darling,  and  which 
really  does  not  explain  anything.  It  is  evident  that  peo 
pie  at  large,  and  professionals  as  well,  are  utterly  ignor 
ant  of  the  great  and  all-powerful  law  of  causality. 
There  is  no  effect  without  a  cause,  and  this  cause  is  as 
powerful  as  the  following  effect.  It  operates  through 
ages  and  ages.  Ex  nihilo  nihil  fit;  out  of  nothing,  noth 
ing  comes,  and  we  are'  not  dealing  with  nothings ;  we 
are  dealing  with  facts,  and  only  facts.  You  cannot  have 
your  last  brick  on  the  top  of  a  building  ten  stories  high, 


240 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 

unless  you  have  a  series  of  bricks  beginning  at  the  bot 
tom,  from  the  foundation  on  the  solid  ground.  You 
could  not  be  a  priest  today  had  you  not  reached  that 
stage  of  development  which  enabled  you  to  see  the 
beauty  of  the  priesthood,  and  made  you  choose  it  for 
your  career.  It  necessarily  follows  that  in  order  to 
reach  that  stage,  you  must  have  had  experiences  upon 
experiences.  When  you  consider  the  shortness  of  your 
present  life,  you  are  forced  to  look  backward  into  the 
ages  past  during  which  you  have  been  continually  grow 
ing.  This  growth  in  experiences  is  the  only  power 
formulating  your  desires,  and  which  eventually  brought 
you  to  your  present  stage.  The  same  thing  must  be 
said  of  every  one  of  us,  in  each  case.  Mr.  Milton  could 
not  be  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Ihringier  a  physician,  Mr.  Irving  a 
metallurgist,  without  a  certain  particular  cause  in  each 
case  which  attracted  them  to  the  practice  of  the  chosen 
profession.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Milton,  the  banker,  we 
have  an  illustration  of  a  farmer  who  for  the  first  time 
tries  to  plough  his  land  with  a  machine  operated  by 
steam.  It  being  his  first  experience,  the  machine  now 
and  then  requiring  a  certain  adjustment,  which  consumes 
much  of  his  time,  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  he  can 
do  much  better  with  his  old  oxen,  and  still  older  wooden 
plough,  and  starts  his  operation,  with  which  he  is  famil 
iar,  and  achieves  greater  success.  Eventually  he  will 
try  the  machine  again,  but  not  until  he  is  thoroughly 
familiar  with  it  will  he  abandon  his  old  style  of  cultiva 
tion.  You  cannot  be  attracted  by  a  thing  which  you  do 
not  know.  This  knowledge  comes  only  through  the  ex 
periences,  which  consume  ages  and  ages,  and  which  be 
come  a  giant  factor  in  the  workings  of  the  powerful  law 


241 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


of  causation.  The  illustration  of  the  girl  who  com 
mitted  forgery  is  another  instance  in  this  case.  She  is 
known  in  all  respects,  as  a  very  exemplary  girl.  Sud 
denly  she  becomes  a  criminal.  When  she  is  examined 
she  displays  genuine  innocence.  She  does  not  realize 
the  importance  of  the  committed  forgery;  in  fact,  the 
committed  act,  as  well  as  the  time  when  she  committed 
the  forgery,  are  to  her  entirely  blank.  She  is  a  study 
which  cannot  be  solved  without  the  application  of  this 
great  law  of  causation.  Because  we  do  not  know  its  work 
ings,  the  case  baffles  us.  Evidently  what  one  cannot  learn 
by  example,  one  must  learn  by  personal  experience.  No 
matter  how  we  handle  the  case  we  must  face  the  great 
law  of  causation.  (*)  This  law  is  the  inexorable 
ruler  of  our  destiny,  and  through  its  workings  unmistak 
ably  indicates  that  we  are  following  the  great  river  of 
life,  which,  as  it  goes,  grows  in  volume  and  power  un 
til  finally  it  reaches  its  goal — the  great  ocean  of  knowl 
edge." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Dr.  Ihringier,  "you  are  clothing 
our  insignificant  lives  with  much  of  what  is  called  mysti 
cism." 

"No  danger,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "You  cannot 
clothe  a  thing  with  nothing,  if  that  is  meant  by  your 
mysticism.  On  the  other  hand,  mysticism,  meaning  an 
unknown  realm  to  us,  is  a  thing  which  we  cannot  avoid, 
for  it  follows  us  as  we  grow.  We  are  dealing  with  it 
continually.  Unless  you  make  a  special  study  of  the 
vibratory  theory,  the  telephone,  graphophone  and  the  like 


(*)  The  girl  in  question,  after  two  years  of  probation,  once 
more  committed  forgery.  She  remains  a  mystery  to  the  au 
thorities. 


242 


THEOLDMANPLATOKNEWITWELL. 


inventions,  will  remain  for  you  a  mystery.  The  same 
thing  occurs  in  our  study  of  man,  and  the  laws  govern 
ing  him.  But,  as  in  other  branches  of  science,  we  ought 
not  to  stop  when  we  encounter  the  imperturbable  un 
known.  We  must  advance,  always  guided  by  those  nat 
ural  laws  which  are  at  our  disposal,  for  one  will  lead  us 
to  another,  thus  helping  us  to  achieve  the  only  aim  of 
our  lives.  This  being  an  imperative  law,  we  advance 
whether  conscious  or  unconscious  of  the  fact.  Dr. 
Darling  of  today  is  not  the  same  of  a  year  ago,  much  less 
the  one  of  five  or  more  years  ago.  So  are  his  concep 
tions.  Accordingly,  new  requirements  will  arise  as  he 
goes  by,  and  those  he  will  have  to  meet  whether  he 
wishes  or  not." 

"However,  before  he  does  so,  let  me  ask  you  another 
question,"  said  Mr.  Irving.  "To  tell  the  truth,  I  do  not 
understand  clearly  enough  your  theory,  Count;  you 
know  I  must  have  it  in  a  nutshell.  Will  you  tell  me  in 
the  simplest  way  you  can,  what  do  you  mean  by  all  you 
have  said?" 

"I  mean  simply  this,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "Man, 
like  all  other  things,  does  not  come  into  existence  by  a 
special  creation,  for  he  has  been  existing  for  at  least 
three  hundred  thousand  years  on  this  planet.  That  man 
is  composed  of  a  soul  and  a  physical  body,  we  know. 
What  hippens  with  the  physical  body  we  also  know. 
But  when  we  come  to  the  laws  governing  the  soul  after 
so-called  death,  it  seems  opinions  are  divided.  Those 
who  base  their  views  upon  the  latest  theories,  (religious 
views)  wish  to  banish  departed  souls  to  some  regions 
out  of  this  earthly  sphere,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  the 
law  of  attraction  which  keeps  our  little  planet  together 


243 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


is  much  stronger  than  their  wishes.  The  human  soul, 
which  is  a  growing  thing  and  an  indivisible  entity,  be 
ing  unconditionally  subject  to  the  all-powerful  law  of 
progression,  which  is  its  sole  aim,  is  forced  to  effect  its 
growth  through  the  process  of  re-embodiment,  regulated 
by  the  law  of  causality.  Every  new  embodiment  is  a 
step  forward.  There  is  nothing  lost  of  the  past  lives, 
not  a  single  thought,  not  a  single  word.  Experiences  of 
past  lives  make  you,  me,  and  all  others,  what  we  are;  for 
as  the  old  saying  goes :  'Our  deeds  follow  us  from  afar ; 
what  we  were,  makes  us  what  we  are.'  This  is  in  a  nut 
shell  the  whole  picture  of  the  existing  reality,  the  knowl 
edge  of  which  is  based  on  careful  observations." 

"I  understand  it  now,"  remarked  Mr.  Irving,  adjust 
ing  his  watch  chain  hanging  below  his  vest  pocket. 
"But,  when  I  compare  this  with  what  Dr.  Darling  was 
preaching  last  Sunday,  I  do  not  know  which  I  have  to 
believe." 

"You  will  believe  whichever  appeals  to  your  senses 
better  and  stronger,"  replied  Count  Morat.  "For  your 
aptitude  in  believing  is  absolutely  conditional  with  your 
mental  development.  If  you  think  Dr.  Darling's  theory 
is  the  best,  believe  in  it  and  follow  it.  If  you  think  his 
theory  too  old  fashioned,  put  your  brain  into  working — 
provided  you  have  one — and  pave  your  own  path  the 
best  you  can.  But  remember  this,  that  you  cannot  place 
six  bushels  of  apples  in  a  basket  which  can  hold  only 
three.  A  space  of  two  by  three  inches  in  a  wall  can  only 
be  filled  with  a  brick  of  the  same  dimensions.  You  can 
not  tax  a  wagon  with  a  heavier  load  than  it  can  stand, 
for  it  will  break  down  and  cause  you  more  trouble  than 
you  ever  expected,  and  will  retard  your  journey.  With 


244 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 

men,  it  is  a  matter  of  growth.  Many  people  can  agree 
on  many  points,  but  not  all  the  people  on  all  the  points ; 
and  this  is  only  natural,  for  each  one  has  to  fill  his  place 
in  this  great  world  of  ours  according  to  his  capacity, 
which  is  measured  by  the  acquired  experiences  in  the 
past.  A  believer  in  a  most  nonsensical  teaching,  if  he  is 
sincere,  is  not  to  be  blamed.  He  does  his  best,  and  as 
such  often  times  is  the  most  useful  man  in  the  commun 
ity.  Because  Dr.  Darling  does  not  believe  in  my  views, 
he  is  not  any  worse  in  my  opinion.  He  cannot  help  be 
lieving  in  what  he  does.  There  are  millions  who  claim 
they  believe  in  a  certain  creed,  simply  because  they  were 
born  of  parents  who  professed  that  creed.  The  teach 
ings  included  in  the  views  advanced  by  me,  were,  and 
still  continue  to  be,  professed  by  great  philosophers. 
They  require  thinking  and  a  logical  one  to  be  understood. 
One  cannot  see  their  beauty  unless  he  is  able  to  under 
stand  them.  Now,  coming  to  your  question,  Mr.  Irving, 
I  say  again  if  you  believe  in  Dr.  Darling's  theory— 

"Pardon  me,"  interrupted  Dr.  Darling,  "but  the  teach 
ing  I  am  preaching  is  not  my  theory.  It  is  the  teaching 
of  the  Holy  Catholic  church.  I  am  in  my  character  of  a 
priest,  simply  as  an  interpreter  of  the  teachings  which 
came  to  us  from  above.  These  teachings  are  not  human 
inventions;  they  came  to  us  by  revelations." 

"O  those  wonderful  revelations!"  remarked  Mr.  Mil 
ton.  "Let  me  tell  you  a  little  story  that  will  tell  its  own 
tale.  Ours  is  a  glorious  country,  indeed,  because  it  is  a 
country  for  the  people  and  by  the  people.  As  such,  it  has 
a  form  of  government  which,  so  far,  has  no  equal.  The 
supposed  best  men  of  the  whole  country  are  sent  to 
Washington,  D.  C.,  as  representatives  of  their  respective 


245 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


states,  and  constitute  the  great  body  of  the  American 
Congress.  These  men  probably  with  no  exceptions  are 
believers  in  these  same  identical  revelations,  and  for  the 
same  identical  reasons  which  you,  Dr.  Darling,  are  ad 
vancing  for  your  belief.  However,  there  is  in  that  body 
a  man  who  is  one  of  the  representatives  of  a  state,  which 
was  founded  and  grew  under  the  special  care  of  the  peo 
ple  professing  the  Mormon  faith.  This  man  is  an  ex 
cellent  man.  In  fact,  he  is  a  much  better  man  than 
many  from  other  states,  for  he  takes  good  care  of  all  his 
wives.  He  raises  his  children,  whether  they  number 
twenty  or  forty-five.  Just  think  what  a  precious  citizen 
he  is,  raising  such  a  little  colony  to  populate  the  vast  ter 
ritories  of  our  empty  middle  and  far  west  states.  Be 
cause  this  man  is  such  a  good  man,  the  rest  of  the  Con 
gress  do  not  like  him.  Some  malicious  politicians  say 
that  this  man  is  disliked  simply  because  he  enjoys  the 
love  and  esteem  of  seven  pretty  wives;  because  he  has  a 
wife  for  every  day  of  the  week,  and  they  have  only  one. 
Is  not  this  mortifying?  A  case  of  mere  envy;  yes, 
envy;  and  to  show  their  disapproval  of  him,  they  rebel 
against  his  sitting  in  the  Senate  Chamber!  Now  this 
honest  upright  man,  whom  we  will  call  Mr.  Jones,  comes 
before  the  Congress  and  says :  'Men  of  wisdom  and  vir 
tue  !  You  follow  the  teachings  of  your  religion,  and  you 
say  it  is  right.  I  follow  the  teachings  of  my  religion, 
and  you  say  it  is  wrong.  O  men  of  Wisdom !  You  were 
chosen  by  the  great  people  of  this  country  to  enact  just 
lawrs,  following  the  spirit  of  our  noble  constitution,  which 
in  its  first  article  of  amendments,  says :  "Congress  shall 
make  no  law  respecting  an  establishment  of  religion,  or 
prohibiting  the  free  exercise  thereof!"  Contrary  to  the 


246 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


tenet  of  our  Magna  Charta,  you  forbid  the  honest  and 
upright  people  known  as  the  Latter  Day  Saints  to  follow 
the  dictation  of  their  conscience.  You  believe  in  your 
faith,  because  it  was  revealed  to  you  by  great  and  holy 
men,  prophets.  We  also  believe  in  our  faith  for  the  same 
reason,  namely,  because  it  was  revealed  to  us  through 
our  great  prophet,  Joseph  Smith,  and  again  re-revealed 
to  us,  the  apostles  of  the  great  church.  O  men  of 
wisdom !  I  say  unto  ye  honestly  and  truly,  that  I  my 
self  saw  the  Almighty  God.  Yes,  I  saw  him  in  the 
holy  vision  which  is  granted  only  to  us  the  apostles,  and 
heard  his  command,  who  saith  unto  me,  "My  son,  get 
married  as  often  as  you  care."  I  followed  this  com 
mand,  and  now  ye  men  of  wisdom,  contrary  to  the  spirit 
of  our  glorious  constitution,  which  in  its  fourth  article 
and  third  section  says,  "ATo  religious  test  shall  erer  be 
required  as  a  qualification  to  any  office  or  public  trust 
under  the  United  States,"  I  say,  ye  men  of  wisdom,  you 
blame  me.  You  call  me  a  liar,  and  you  are  throwing  me 
out  of  the  Senate!  O  ye  men  of  wisdom  and  virtue!  Can 
you  overlook  this  act  of  yours  contrary  to  the  spirit  of 
our  glorious  constitution?  Think,  O  men,  think  and  be 
penitent!'  That  this  is  the  substance  of  the  just  protest 
of  men  representing  a  religion  which  belongs  to  this 
country  more  than  any  other  religion,  for  it  was  origi 
nated  here,  and  not  imported  as  other  religions  are,  I 
hope  you  will  not  dispute.  Now,  Dr.  Darling,  if  you 
believe  in  the  revelations  handed  down  by  the  Jewish 
prophets,  why  for  the  sake  of  the  land  don't  you  believe 
in  the  revelations  of  an  honest  man  who  happens  to  be  a 
Mormon  of  Salt  Lake  City?  You  don't  know  what 
kind  of  men  those  prophets  of  yours  were;  but  you  can 


247 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


know  the  living  Mormons.  They  are  good  men,  for,  as 
we  all  know,  they  take  good  care  of  their  families,  no 
matter  how  great  is  the  number  of  their  members,  their 
country  and  state  they  inhabit.  The  Jewish  prophets 
living  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago,  in  Asiatic 
Turkey,  said  that  they  saw  God,  who  told  them  to  write 
down  his  laws;  this  you  believe.  The  American  prophets 
of  the  Mormon  faith,  living  in  your  country  and  your 
days,  said  also  that  they  saw  God,  the  God  of  Abraham, 
Isaac  and  Jacob,  who  dictated  to  them  the  laws  which 
govern  their  church,  polygamy  being  one  of  those  laws; 
this  you  don't  believe.  Is  this  justice?  Why  should  the 
prophets  of  your  own  country  be  considered  less  reliable 
than  foreigners?  Where  is  your  patriotism,  your  sense 
of  impartiality,  your  good  and  sound  logic?  Why  the 
revelations  made  by  the  Jewish  prophets  should  be  more 
valuable  to  you  than  those  made  by  our  own  prophets  in 
Utah,  is  a  mystery  to  me." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Darling,  somewhat  irritated,  "you 
don't  expect  that  we  should  believe  any  and  every  crank 
that  comes  around  and  tells  us  of  his  visions.  Nowadays 
we  have  a  whole  army  of  new  religions.  There  are 
Burning  Bushes.  Holy  Jumpers,  and  all  sorts  of  Kickers. 
You  don't  call  those  religions,  do  you?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "Those  religions  are 
as  good  as  any,  for  they  have  the  same  construction  as 
yours.  They  have  their  revelations  the  same  as  you 
have  yours,  and  they  expect  to  go  to  heaven,  like  you  do. 
leaving  hell  to  those  who  do  not  belong  to  them." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Irving,  who  got  tired  of  keep 
ing  silence.  "You  may  say  what  you  please,  but  I  am 
going  to  stay  where  I  am.  I  was  born  under  the  English 


248 


THE  OLD  MAN  PLATO  KNEW  IT  WELL. 


flag,  in  Canada,  where  I  was  raised  in  the  national 
church  of  England.  I  will  remain  an  Episcopalian,  not 
because  I  think  that  religion  the  best,  nor  because  I  know 
it  better  than  any  other;  in  fact,  I  don't  know  much  of 
any  religion,  but  simply  because  it  is  the  religion  of  my 
infancy.  I  go  to  hear  Dr.  Darling  every  Sunday,  and 
although  I  do  not  believe  in  all  he  says,  because  some 
times  he  says  things  which  are  contrary  to  reason,  I  am 
going  to  keep  my  seat  in  his  church  and  listen  to  him.  I 
know  lots  of  my  friends  who  are  in  the  same  fix.  We 
like  Dr.  Darling,  and  that  is  why  we  go  there." 

"I  like  you  for  your  frankness,  Mr.  Irving,"  said  Mr. 
Milton,  gaily.  "You  can  do  as  you  please,  but  now  can 
I  offer  you  a  glass  of ?" 

"Why  yes,  certainly,  of  course;  where  is  it?"  inquired 
Mr.  Irving,  looking  around. 

"This  way,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  conducting 
his  friends  to  the  dining  room,  where  they  were  served 
with  refreshments,  after  which  the  little  company  of 
philosophers  dispersed,  each  going  to  his  home. 


249 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    STORY     OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


Several  weeks  elapsed  since  the  day  when  Yonan 
identified  Mr.  Gladston's  picture  as  that  of  the  man  he 
saw  in  Orfa.  Since  that  he  had  many  opportunities  to 
examine  the  picture  time  and  again,  and  the  more  he  saw 
of  it  the  stronger  his  conviction  was  that  this  was  the 
man  who  carried  away  the  little  Princess.  The  compli 
cated  problem  of  the  existence  of  two  Gladstons,  which 
originated  from  the  fact  that  information  received  by 
Count  Morat  in  the  city  of  Mosul,  contradicted  that  in 
the  book  published  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Gladston, 
seemed  to  weaken  and  vanish  in  the  face  of  the  certainty 
with  which  Yonan  repeatedly  asserted  that  Mr.  Glad 
ston's  picture  represented  the  man  whom  he  saw  in  Orfa. 
Adding  to  this  the  evidences  found  on  the  person  of  Miss 
Virginia,  namely,  the  birthmark  on  her  face,  and  her 
vivid  resemblance  to  the  lost  child,  the  mystery  seemed 
easily  solved.  Now  the  question  arose,  how  to  proceed 
with  the  further  development  of  the  case.  Meditating1 
upon  this,  Count  Morat  decided  to  make  his  story  known 


250 


THE    STORY     OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


to  Mrs.  Pratt  and  Miss  Virginia.  There  was  one  more 
detail  Count  Morat  wished  to  ascertain,  but  this  seemed 
next  to  impossible.  It  was  the  question  whether  Miss 
Virginia  had  the  other  birthmark  as  well,  of  which 
Yonan  spoke.  But,  this  being  rather  of  a  delicate  na 
ture,  inasmuch  as  it  required  a  bodily  examination  of 
Miss  Virginia,  Count  Morat  abandoned  the  idea  alto 
gether.  However,  he  was  brought  to  a  final  decision  by 
another  and  strong  factor,  which  was  his  own  intuition. 
Owing  to  this  intuition,  he  had  such  a  certitude  that  he 
had  found  the  lost  child,  that  even  if  there  were  no  cor 
roborative  evidence,  he  could  not  dismiss  his  belief. 
This  intuition  began  to  assert  its  findings  from  the  first 
moment  he  saw  Miss  Virginia  on  the  occasion  of  that 
memorable  reception  night.  The  more  he  saw  her,  the 
stronger  his  conviction  was,  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in 
the  identity  of  the  girl.  But,  no  matter  how  strongly 
he  was  urged  by  his  intuition,  he  could  not  divulge  his 
case  without  such  evidence  as  would  convince  Mrs. 
Pratt  and  Miss  Virginia.  Now  that  he  had  on  hand  all 
he  thought  necessary,  he  decided  to  put  his  design  in  ac 
tion.  Accordingly,  on  the  evening  of  that  same  day  he 
made  his  appearance  on  Adams  street. 

Entering  the  parlor,  Count  Morat  was  greeted  cor 
dially  by  Miss  Virginia  and  her  aunt.  Mr.  Milton,  who 
at  the  express  wish  of  the  Count  was  there,  shook  his 
hand,  offering  him  a  chair.  After  a  few  usual  remarks, 
Count  Morat  said : 

"Miss  Virginia,  I  have  to  tell  you  a  very  strange  story 
tonight." 

"A  strange  story?"  repeated  Miss  Virginia,  laughing. 
"I  am  not  surprised.  You  have  so  many  interesting 


251 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


stories  to  tell,  that  I  am  always  ready  to  hear  something 
unusual." 

"But  this  time  I  will  tell  you  something  that  will 
really  surprise  you,"  said  the  Count.  "Can  you  believe 
me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  known  of  your  father, 
long  before  I  came  here?" 

"Quite  possible,"  remarked  Miss  Virginia.  "My 
father  being  a  literary  man,  naturally  might  come  to  the 
notice  of  the  public." 

"No,"  hastened  the  Count  to  reply.  "This  is  not  the 
way  I  first  learned  about  Mr.  Gladston.  It  was  during 
the  saddest  moments  of  my  life,  that  your  family  took, 
so  to  speak,  a  part  in  a  drama  concerning  my  family,  and 
which  for  many  years  remained  a  mystery." 

These  few  words,  spoken  in  a  calm  way,  acted  as  a 
shock  of  electricity  on  the  whole  being  of  Miss  Virginia. 
"A  mystery,"  she  thought.  "Has  this  anything  to  do 
with  the  one  connected  with  my  life?"  The  contents  of 
that  strange  letter  of  her  father  came  to  her  memory,  and 
as  though  by  divination  she  expected  to  hear  something 
startling. 

"Part  of  a  drama,"  repeated  Miss  Virginia.  "How 
could  our  family  in  America  take  part  in  a  drama  enacted 
in  Europe?" 

"In  Asia,"  corrected  Count  Morat,  "and  that  is  just 
what  makes  it  more  mysterious." 

"This  is  becoming  very  interesting,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Pratt.  "But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  cannot  understand  how 
that  can  be." 

"Nor  would  I,  if  it  were  not  for  the  facts,  which  speak 
for  themselves.  When  you  hear  my  narrative  you  will 


252 


THE     STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 

see  that  my  statement  is  absolutely  correct,"  answered 
Count  Morat. 

The  two  ladies  and  Mr.  Milton  became  now  all  atten 
tion. 

"The  sad  story  of  my  family,"  resumed  Count  Morat, 
"which  I  have  secreted  in  my  heart  now  for  twenty-four 
years,  is  too  sacred  to  me  to  be  told  without  special  rea 
sons.  I  shall  not  speak  now  about  my  ancestors,  nor 
will  I  touch  upon  the  social  standing  of  our  family.  I 
will  relate  only  that  portion  of  the  story  which  connects 
me  with  the  present  situation.  We  were  only  two 
brothers.  Benedict  was  the  older.  In  order  to  make  my 
story  clear,  I  must  state  here,  that  for  convenience  sake,  I 
have  been  traveling  under  the  name  of  Count  Morat ;  but 
my  real  name  is  Lucian  Muratt.  I  have  simply  sup 
pressed  one  't'  and  replaced  'o'  for  V  and  Count  for 
Prince.  This,  as  I  said,  I  did  simply  for  convenience 
sake.  This  brother  of  mine  was  happily  married.  His 
wife  was  an  exceptionally  charming  lady.  Benedict  be 
came  interested  in  a  scheme  of  a  new  railroad  in  Asiatic 
Turkey,  which  was  to  connect  Constantinople  with  the 
central  provinces,  extending  as  far  as  Bagdad,  going 
across  Mesopotamia,  a  country  entirely  unknown  to  the 
civilized  world ;  at  least  it  was  when  my  story  begins. 
In  brief,  he  took  his  young  wife  and  the  only  child,  a 
sweet  little  girl  scarcely  five  months  old,  and  went  to 
travel  through  that  savage  country.  His  wife  being  a 
lady  of  high  attainment  and  much  interested  in  all  un 
dertakings  of  her  husband,  insisted  upon  going  with  him, 
for  she  would  not  listen  to  his  going  alone.  Besides,  she 
loved  to  travel,  especially  through  the  countries  where 
primitive  conditions  of  life  prevailed.  She  took  with 


253 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


her,  her  faithful  maid  to  take  care  of  her  baby  girl.  In 
addition,  they  had  with  them  this  faithful  servant  of 
mine,  Yonan,  whom  you  all  know.  At  that  time  I  was 
temporarily  stationed  in  Constantinople.  Several  weeks 
after  their  departure,  unexpectedly  I  received  a  telegram 
from  a  city  called  Orfa,  (*)  located  in  the  heart  of 
Mesopotamia,  which  is  the  name  of  the  country  between 
the  two  great  rivers,  Tigris  and  Euphrates.  This  tele 
gram  apprised  me  of  the  sad  situation  my  brother  was  in, 
and  requested  my  immediate  presence.  Both  he  and  his 
wife  were  stricken  with  Asiatic  cholera,  which  about  that 
time  was  mercilessly  raging  in  that  country,  and  both 
were  in  a  helpless  condition.  I  immediately  sailed  on 
the  first  steamer  I  caught  going  to  Eskenderun,  or  Alex- 
andretta,  a  little  port  on  the  Mediterranean  near  Haleb, 
and  started  my  voyage,  traveling  as  fast  as  I  possibly 
could,  although  with  no  hope  of  reaching  the  place  in 
time  to  see  my  brother  and  his  wife  again.  After  sev 
eral  days  on  the  sea,  having  landed  in  the  above  men 
tioned  little  port,  I  had  before  me  ten  more  days  of  tedious 
travel  on  horseback.  Finally  I  arrived  in  Orfa.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  house  where  my  brother 
lived.  I  found  the  house,  but  alas,  I  did  not  find  my 
brother.  Yonan  was  the  one  who  met  me  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  dwelling  and  told  me  the  sad  story,  which 
consisted  of  the  fact  that  my  brother,  his  wife  and  the 
nurse  were  dead.  I  will  not  try  to  tell  you  my  suffer 
ings  at  that  time.  It  was  a  blow  which  brought  me 
nearly  to  the  verge  of  insanity.  I  loved  my  brother 
more  than  I  can  tell  you,  and  still  more  I  loved  the  little 
baby,  who  was  an  exact  picture  of  her  father." 


(*)  Known  in  olden  times  to  Latin  writers  as  "Or  Chaldeorum." 

254 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LOST  CHILD. 


At  this  moment  Count  Morat  suddenly  stopped  speak 
ing.  He  was  overwhelmed  with  emotion,  the  display  of 
which  he  wished  to  prevent  by  momentary  silence.  While 
the  Count  was  trying  to  compose  himself,  Miss  Virginia, 
who  was  very  much  impressed  with  the  sad  story,  could 
hardly  conceal  her  emotion,  but  she  managed  to  speak 
to  the  Count. 

"And  what  became  of  the  child?"  she  asked  anxiously. 
"Was  the  child  also  dead?" 

"Oh,  no,  the  child  was  not  dead,  but  a  thing  happened 
which  at  that  time  I  thought  was  worse  than  death." 

"Why,  what  was  it?"  inquired  Miss  Virginia  impa 
tiently.  "Was  she  kidnapped?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  it  amounted  to  the  same  thing,  as 
you  will  see,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "However,  let 
me  follow  the  events  in  a  chronological  order.  Having 
learned  the  sad  news,  my  next  question,  of  course,  was 
where  was  the  child  ?  Here  I  must  tell  you,  that  Yonan 
was  employed  by  my  brother  as  his  servant,  and  inter 
preter  for  several  oriental  languages  spoken  in  that 
country,  being  highly  recommended  to  him  while  he  was 
in  Constantinople,  and  who  afterwards  proved  to  be 
worthy  of  my  brother's  full  confidence.  This  is  why  he 
is  with  me  now,  and  has  been  since  that  sad  day,  when  I 
found  him  in  Orfa  waiting  for  me.  This  faithful  serv 
ant  did  all  in  his  power  to  save  my  brother  and  his 
wife,  but  all  was  in  vain.  To  my  question  as  to  what 
became  of  the  child,  Yonan  told  me  this:  that  after  the 
death  of  his  mistress  and  her  nurse,  which  occurred  sev 
eral  clays  before  the  death  of  my  brother,  and  while  my 
brother  was  still  alive,  two  families  of  English  travelers 
were  passing  through  that  town,  where  they  had  stopped 


255 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


for  the  night.  Learning-  about  this  unusual  incident,  and 
following  the  wishes  of  my  brother,  Yonan  went  to  those 
English  travelers  and  requested  that  one  of  them  should 
come  to  the  town  and  see  an  European  gentleman  danger 
ously  ill.  It  was  undoubtedly  an  act  of  charity  that  one 
of  them  went  to  see  my  dying  brother." 

"Here  unconsciously  he  raised  his  gaze  to  the  hanging 
picture  of  Mr.  Gladston.  Miss  Virginia  could  not  help 
noticing  this,  for  she  was  attentively  following  his  mo 
tions,  and  when  his  gaze  passed  from  the  picture  to  her 
self,  she  saw  the  immensity  of  his  sufferings  in  his  eyes, 
and  she  asked  herself  what  could  have  attracted  his  at 
tention  at  this  moment  to  the  picture  of  her  father  ?  In 
stantly  she  felt  intuitively  that  here  it  was  where  her 
father  became  a  part  of  the  drama.  Wishing  to  test  her 
suspicion,  she  asked : 

"What  year  was  it  when  this  sad  occurrence  took 
place,  Count?" 

"This  was  in  the  spring  of  eighteen  hundred  and 
eighty •" 

Hearing  this  she  instantly  turned  her  inquiring  gaze 
to  her  aunt.  Both  ladies  knew  well  that  was  the  spring 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  returned  home  by  the  way 
of  Orfa,  and  they  both  betrayed  a  certain  uneasiness, 
which  the  Count  took  for  a  good  omen,  and  resumed  his 
story. 

"In  the  heart  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  where  Europeans  are 
seen  at  very  rare  intervals,  the  appearance  of  every  Eu 
ropean  traveler  is  a  notable  incident  in  the  town  where 
they  happen  to  stop.  When  this  gentleman,  whose  name 
I  knew  not  until  recently,  came  to  my  brother,  he  found 
him  in  the  agony  of  death,  but,  being  still  in  possession 


256 


THE     STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 

of  his  senses,  my  brother  succeeded  in  captivating  the 
traveler  with  his  appeal.  The  dying  father  beseeched  him 
with  imploring'  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  take  his  child 
and  have  it  in  his  keeping  until  I,  his  brother, 
would  arrive.  Fortunately  this  gentleman  had  his 
wife  with  him,  who,  having  learned  of  the  sad  case, 
did  not  hesitate  to  take  the  child  under  her  care. 
This  done,  my  brother  drew  his  last  breath.  Now 
it  appears  from  the  narrative  of  Yonan  that  these  Eng 
lish  travelers  were  on  their  way  home.  The  caravan 
with  which  they  arrived,  had  come  from  Mosul,  its  des 
tination  being  Haleb.  Before,  however,  leaving  the 
town,  the  gentleman  who  took  the  child,  gave  his  card 
with  his  London  address  to  Yonan,  with  instruction  that 
they  would  stay  for  several  days  in  the  city  of  Haleb, 
five  days'  distance  from  Orfa,  and  should  I  arrive  in 
time,  to  communicate  with  him.  But,  as  it  often  hap 
pens,  as  though  by  some  unfathomed  design  of  destiny — 
the  workings  of  the  law  of  causation — one  misfortune 
brought  the  other:  Yonan  lost  that  card,  which  was  the 
only  clue  to  the  enacted  drama.  Poor  man,  he  was  wild 
with  despair,  but  that  did  not  help  the  case.  Thus,  I  had 
before  me  a  real  mystery.  Who  was  the  traveler  who 
took  the  child?  How  to  find  him?  At  that  moment  I 
made  a  solemn  vow  that  I  shall  not  rest  until  I  have 
found,  dead  or  alive,  the  sweet  child  of  my  brother,  the 
only  offspring  in  our  family.  You  can  easily  guess  that 
I  started  my  researches  immediately.  I  telegraphed  to 
all  European  consuls  located  in  every  city  between  Mosul 
and  Eskenderun,  requesting  them  to  inform  me  of  the 
English  travelers  passing  through  their  respective  cities, 
but,  alas,  after  a  long  waiting  my  despair  grew  more 


257 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


than  I  could  stand,  for  I  could  learn  absolutely  nothing 
satisfactory.  Then  I  decided  to  visit  the  two  cities  on 
the  way  to  the  Mediterranean  personally,  which  I  did, 
only  to  learn  to  my  great  chagrin  that  no  European  trav 
elers  with  or  without  a  child  had  been  seen,  or  known  to 
have  been  seen  to  any  one  of  the  European  representatives 
in  those  cities.  While  my  despair  was  great,  greater  was 
my  resolution  not  to  yield  to  the  encountered  difficulties 
in  my  researches  for  the  lost  child.  Having  found  that 
I  could  not  learn  anything  advantageous  in  those  cities, 
I  hastily  returned  to  Orfa,  where  I  had  left  my  man 
Yonan.  There  is  in  that  city  a  charming  little  pond, 
through  which  runs  a  stream  of  fresh  mountain  water. 
Surrounded  by  well-grown  trees,  this  pond  is  a  sacred 
spot  to  the  inhabitants  of  that  city.  The  great  quantity 
of  fish  in  that  pond  is  absolutely  immune  from  the  hands 
of  men.  No  one  dares  to  touch  them.  They  grow  in 
number  and  strength,  being  constantly  fed  by  the  people 
who  come  there  to  spend  a  few  pleasant  hours  in  the 
shade  of  the  trees.  To  this  pond  I  went,  whither  Yonan 
took  me,  to  show  me  the  place  where  my  brother  used 
to  spend  his  leisure  hours  before  he  fell  into  the  clutches 
of  the  dreadful  disease  which  so  mercilessly  ended  his 
life.  There,  sitting  on  the  same  bench  on  which  my 
brother  and  his  wife  used  to  rest,  I  took  counsel  with 
Yonan  as  to  the  action  to  be  taken  in  further  researches, 
and  there  I  concluded,  since  I  could  not  find  a  trace  of 
the  travelers  between  Orfa  and  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 
the  next  and  only  advisable  step  would  be  to  go  to  Mosul 
and  there  inquire  about  the  travelers  who  had  started 
from  that  city.  Losing  no  time,  I  took  Yonan  with  me, 
and  after  fourteen  days'  travel  on  horseback  we  reached 


258 


THE    STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


Mosul.  Here  I  went  immediately  to  the  English  Consu 
late,  where  I  learned  that  there  were  no  English  travelers 
from  that  city  scheduled  for  Orfa.  Upon  my  further 
inquiries  I  learned  that  about  the  time  I  had  mentioned, 
there  were  two  families  who  left  that  city.  One  was 
Prof,  and  Mrs.  Norton  of  London,  and  the  other  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gladston  of  America.  But  these  people  did  not 
take  the  western  route  which  leads  to  the  Mediterranean 
coast,  passing  through  Orfa,  Haleb  and  Eskenderun. 
These  gentlemen  having  finished  their  work  in  Nemrud, 
had  decided  to  return  to  Europe  by  a  northern  route  go 
ing  through  the  cities  of  Amedya,  Bashkala,  Van,  Erze- 
rum.  and  Trebizond  on  the  Black  Sea,  and  then  to  Con 
stantinople.  They  decided  to  go  that  way,  for  two  im 
portant  reasons.  One  was  to  explore  the  splendid  group 
of  Hekkaryan  mountains  through  which  they  had  to 
pass,  and  the  other  to  examine  the  ancient  cuneiform  in 
scriptions  to  be  found  on  the  rocks  in  the  city  of  Van 
and  its  vicinity.  (*)  Besides,  having  come  to  Mosul  by 
the  western  route,  they  preferred  to  return  by  the  way 
just  mentioned.  Thus  I  was  forced  to  conclude  that 
the  travelers  who  took  the  child  did  not  come  from 
Mosul.  However,  determined  to  exhaust  all  possible 
ways  to  find  the  travelers,  or  at  least  the  place  from 
whence  they  could  have  come  to  Orfa,  at  the  English 
Consulate  of  Mosul,  I  learned  that  sometimes  American 
missionaries  located  in  Urmia,  Persia,  travel  by  that  way. 
going  to  Europe.  Learning  this  I  hired  a  special  mes 
senger,  for  there  is  no  postal  service  nor  telegraphic 


(*)  In  1888,  Mr.  Hyvernat,  an  emissary  of  the  French  govern 
ment,  visited  that  country,  and  published  an  account  of  those 
cuneiform  inscriptions  in  his  "Inscription  cuneiformes  Van- 
niques  ou  Armeniaques." 


259 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


communication  between  the  two  localities,  and  dispatch 
ed  him  with  letters  to  the  head  man  of  the  Ameri 
can  Mission  in  Persia.  This  required  at  least  two 
months'  time,  during  which  I  remained  in  the  city  of 
Mosul.  Finally  my  messenger  returned  with  the  news 
that  no  one  connected  with  the  mission  in  Urmia  had 
traveled  that  way,  and  thus  my  last  hope  vanished.  That 
Mr.  Norton  and  Mr.  Gladston  did  not  pass  through 
Orfa,  I  was  assured  by  the  English  Consul  in  Mosul, 
and  therefore  I  dismissed  forever  the  thought  of  search 
ing  out  their  whereabouts.  What  happened  between 
then  and  the  time  I  came  to  Los  Angeles,  I  will  not  nar 
rate,  for  there  was  nothing  which  could  have  any  connec 
tion  with  the  case,  except  that  there  were  years  repre 
senting  interminable  researches  without  success.  Now 
my  story  reaches  the  stage  of  its  development  here  in  Los 
Angeles.  When  I  read  the  book  which  Miss  Virginia 
kindly  gave  me  for  my  perusal,  I  was  amazed  when  I 
saw  the  statement  that  the  two  archaeologists  with  their 
families  had  returned  to  Europe  by  the  way  of  Orfa  and 
Haleb.  This  brought  me  to  face  a  case  of  absolute  im 
probability.  For,  as  I  have  already  stated,  after  my  ar 
rival  in  Orfa,  I  went  back  to  Haleb  and  Eskenderun  and 
learned  as  a  most  positive  fact,  that  about  the  time  indi 
cated  there  were  no  European  travelers,  English  or  any 
other  nationality,  in  these  cities.  This  fact  has  been  veri 
fied  by  my  emissaries  time  and  again,  with  one  and 
the  same  result,  that  these  travelers  did  not  pass  through 
those  cities,  and  as  no  caravan  ever  passes  without  stop 
ping  in  Haleb,  and  especially  in  Eskenderun,  which  is  the 
sea  port,  the  statement  of  the  book  appeared  to  me  as  an 
inexplicable  mystery.  Now  the  question  arises,  which 


260 


THE    STORY     OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


is  true,  the  version  found  in  the  book  or  the  positive  in 
formation  which  I  have  in  my  possession." 

"Why,  there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  Mr.  Glad- 
ston  took  the  route  leading  to  the  Mediterranean  Sea," 
remarked  Mrs.  Pratt. 

"I  think  my  aunt  is  correct,"  joined  Miss  Virginia, 
"for  if  it  were  not  so,  why  would  my  father  state  so  in 
his  book  ?" 

"That  is  exactly  what  puzzles  me  the  most,"  resumed 
Count  Morat.  "But,  then,  how  could  they  pass  through 
those  cities  without  being  noticed  by  some  one,  officially 
or  otherwise?  Besides,  supposing  they  passed  the  city 
of  Haleb  unnoticed,  how  could  they  board  a  steamer 
without  stopping  in  the  city  of  Eskenderun,  which  is  the 
only  port  in  that  vicinity  where  steamers  stop?  You 
hardly  can  appreciate  the  importance  of  this  detail.  Had 
you  known  the  methods  I  have  used  in  my  researches, 
you  would  be  of  a  different  opinion.  But,  as  inexplain- 
able  as  the  fact  appears  to  be,  I  am  inclined  for  good 
reasons  to  admit  that  it  was  Prof.  Norton  and  Mr.  Glad- 
ston,  with  their  families,  who  passed  through  Orfa  dur 
ing  the  time  when  my  brother  died  in  that  city." 

"Therefore,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  "it  would  necessarily 
follow,  that  it  was  they  who  took  the  child.  Is  that  it  ?" 

"Not  they,  but  one  of  them,"  answered  Count  Morat, 
looking  at  Miss  Virginia  with  the  intensity  of  a  lover. 

"Then  what  became  of  the  child?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Pratt. 

"That  child  today  is  a  charming  young  lady  of  four 
and  twenty,"  answered  Count  Morat,  calmly.  "She  is 
a  perfect  picture  of  her  father,  Prince  Benedict.  She 
has  two  unmistakable  birthmarks;  one  is  on  her  right 


261 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


cheek,  and  the  other,  exactly  similar,  is  located  under  her 
right  arm." 

Miss  Virginia  grew  pale.  Prof.  Norton's  remark, 
quoted  in  her  father's  letter,  stood  before  her  as  an  intro 
duction  to  the  story  told  by  the  Count,  and  a  thought 
like  a  flash  passed  through  her  head,  why  it  could  not  be 
true  that  her  parents  could  have  taken  the  child  in  ques 
tion  simply  as  an  act  of  charity?  But  what  became  of 
the  child?  Where  is  that  charming  young  lady,  a 
daughter  of  a  Prince?  She  tried  to  break  the  momen 
tary  silence,  but  alas,  she  was  not  able.  Fortunately, 
Mr.  Milton,  whose  astonishment  was  strongly  expressed 
in  his  face,  came  to  her  rescue. 

"It  is  a  very  strange  story,  indeed,"  he  remarked.  "But 
I  presume  since  you  have  decided  to  tell  the  story,  you 
must  have  indications  for  its  establishment  as  a  fact. 
Have  you  located  the  lost  child,  the  charming  young 
Princess,  Count?" 

"First  I  have  to  locate  the  man  who  took  the  child," 
replied  Count  Morat  imperturbably.  "In  order  to  do 
that,  the  ladies  will  permit  me  to  call  here  my  man 
Yonan,  who  is  the  living  witness  of  the  sad  drama." 

The  Chaldean,  who  was  standing  in  a  corner  of  the 
parlor,  unnoticed,  made  a  few  steps  forward. 

"Yonan,"  said  the  Count,  "come  here  nearer,  and 
look  at  that  picture  hanging  on  the  wall.  Have  you 
ever  seen  that  gentleman?" 

"Yes,  Master,"  answered  the  Chaldean,  with  a  cer 
tainty  which  was  depicted  on  his  face.  "That  is  the 
gentleman  whom  I  saw  in  the  city  of  Orfa.  My  master, 
Prince  Benedict,  was  in  his  last  agony,  when  this  gen 
tleman  at  my  request  followed  me  to  my  dying  master's 


262 


THE     STORY     OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 

chamber,  it  was  he,"  pointing  with  his  hand  at  the  pic 
ture,  "who  was  strongly  moved  by  the  request  of  my 
master,  and  willingly  agreed  to  save  the  child  from  the 
certain  death  menaced  by  the  cholera,  and  also  from  per 
dition  at  the  hands  of  Asiatics,  had  that  child  fallen  in 
the  hands  of  natives,  and  took  from  my  arms  the  little 
darling,  the  little  Princess.  Afterwards  I  saw  his  wife, 
too.  She  was  a  kind  lady.  She  took  the  little  baby  in 
her  arms  and  carried  it  to  her  tent,  for  they  were  stop 
ping  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  with  the  rest  of  their 
caravan.  Being  assured  that  my  little  Princess  was  in 
good  and  safe  hands,  I  returned  to  my  master,  who 
shortly  died.  That  gentleman  gave  me  his  card  and  told 
me  that,  as  the  cholera  was  raging  in  Orfa,  they  would 
go  to  Haleb,  and  there  they  would  wait  for  directions 
concerning  the  child.  He  knew,  Master,  for  he  saw 
your  telegram  from  Constantinople,  that  you  were  com 
ing,  so  he  promised  to  stop  in  Haleb  long  enough  to  en 
able  you  to  communicate  with  him.  But,  O  merciful 
Lord,  being  broken  down  with  all  that  I  had  witnessed,  I 
do  not  know  how  and  when  I  lost  that  card  which  that 
gentleman  gave  to  me.  But,  Master,  I  solemnly  swear 
that  that  picture  over  there,  is  the  picture  of  the  man  I 
saw  in  Orfa,  the  exact  picture  of  the  traveler  who  took 
the  little  angel  from  my  arms." 

In  relating  this  sad  story  the  Chaldean  was  moved  to 
tears.  The  impression  produced  upon  the  hearers  was 
immense.  After  a  few  seconds  of  silence,  Count  Morat 
spoke  again : 

"Yonan,"  said  he,  "you  have  found  the  man  who  took 
the  child,  but  do  you  think  you  have  found  the  little 
Princess  you  carried  on  your  arms?" 


263 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Master,"  cried  Yonan,  with  the  passion  of  orientals, 
"Master,  while  I  see  the  picture  of  that  kind  and  noble 
man  over  there,  I  see  also  the  little  baby  I  carried  on  my 
arms,  sitting  here.  She  is,"  pointing1  at  Miss  Virginia, 
''the  lost  Princess  Helen,  the  daughter  of  my  late  mas 
ter,  Prince  Benedict." 

The  scene  was  too  pathetic  for  description.  Miss  Vir 
ginia  left  the  parlor  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Pratt, 
amazed  and  stupefied  with  what  she  heard,  followed  her. 
The  Count  and  Mr.  Milton  remained  in  their  seats.  The 
Chaldean  was  standing  motionless,  as  though  a  marble 
statue,  behind  his  master.  Mr.  Milton  was  silent.  Con 
templating  what  he  had  heard,  he  began  to  understand 
things  he  had  seen  and  observed  in  Paris.  Those  mys 
terious  visitors  from  the  Orient;  that  reproach  directed 
to  Yonan  in  which  he  was  told  that  it  was  his  unpardon 
able  fault  which  was  the  cause  of  the  disastrous  conse 
quences.  That  big  envelope  addressed  to  his  Highness 
Prince  Muratt,  and  which  he  read  Morat ;  all  these  things 
began  to  throw  coloring  on  the  situation.  Finally  he 
broke  the  silence. 

"Count,"  said  he,  "you  never  told  me  anything  about 
this  sad  story." 

"No,  my  friend,"  answered  Count  Morat.  "What 
would  I  have  gained  by  telling  you  a  story,  which  could 
not  interest  you,  and  which,  strictly  speaking,  belonged 
to  the  private  life  of  my  family?  Had  I  told  you  at  the 
beginning  my  supposition  in  regard  to  Miss  Virginia's 
birth,  would  you  have  believed  it  ?  Certainly  not.  Then 
what  was  the  use  of  telling  you  about  it  ?  But  now  that 
I  have  told  the  story  as  you  heard  it,  I  can  tell  you  the 
rest.  Several  times  during  our  acquaintance,  you  made 


264 


THE    STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


remarks  concerning"  my  solitude  and  manner  of  life.  I 
avoided  the  subject  the  best  I  could,  for  had  I  tried  to 
answer  your  questions,  I  would  have  had  to  tell  you  the 
sad  story  of  the  family  drama,  and  this  I  did  not  wish  to 
do.  Now  you  know  that  the  sole  aim  of  my  life  was  to 
find  the  lost  child.  I  spent  a  part  of  my  fortune,  which 
partly  belongs  to  her,  in  my  efforts  to  find  her.  Undoubt 
edly,  now  that  you  know  the  story,  many  things  hitherto 
mysterious  are  clearer  to  you,  so  are  they  to  me.  Now  I 
see  why  I  came  to  Los  Angeles.  What  brought  me  here, 
now  is  clear  to  me.  It  is  the  great  law  of  causation  that 
regulates  all  these  seeming  incidents ;  for  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do,  that  there  are  no  incidents,  no  chances,  mean 
ing  the  events  without  the  cause.  After  all,  oh,  how 
happy  I  feel,  so  happy " 

"But,  Count,  you  are  not  sure  that  you  have  found  the 
lost  child,  are  you,"  inquired  Mr.  Milton,  looking  wist 
fully  at  his  friend. 

"What?"  exclaimed  Count  Morat.  "After  what  you 
have  heard  can  you  doubt?  This  charming  Miss  Vir 
ginia  is  no  one  else  than  the  Princess  Helen,  the  only 
daughter  of  my  brother,  and  the  only  offspring  in  our 
family." 

"This  what  you  say  is  only  one  side  of  the  case,  and 
so  far  does  not  prove  anything,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "How 
ever,  will  you  tell  me  how  you  came  to  this  discovery?" 

"In  the  simplest  way,"  resumed  Count  Morat.  "The 
moment  I  saw  Miss  Virginia  when  she  appeared  with 
you  entering  this  parlor  on  that  memorable  reception 
night,  I  knew  her  instantly.  You  have  no  idea  of  the 
strong  resemblance  she  bears  to  her  father.  She  is  a  per 
fect  picture  of  him.  Besides,  her  age,  which  I  learned 


265 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


from  Mrs.  Pratt,  Mr.  Gladston's  stay  and  return  from 
the  East  about  the  time  when  the  child  was  lost,  the 
certaintly  of  Yonan  in  recognizing  Mr.  Gladston's  picture ; 
add  to  these  the  fact  that  Yonan  also  recognized  the  girl 
when  he  first  saw  her.  What  attracted  his  attention  the 
most  was,  that  birth-mark  on  her  face.  You  must  re 
member  that  Yonan  carried  her  on  his  arms  while  a 
child,  and  this  is  how  he  knows  about  the  mark  on  her 
face  as  well  as  the  other  under  her  arm." 

"Very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "What  strikes  me 
the  most  is  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Pratt  does  not  know  any 
thing  about  the  case." 

"The  fact  that  Mrs.  Pratt  does  not  know,  does  not 
change  my  conviction,"  remarked  Count  Morat.  "But 
she  will  know  shortly,  mark  my  words." 

While  these  two  friends  were  conversing  in  the  parlor, 
a  most  pathetic  scene  took  place,  on  the  second  floor,  in 
the  room  of  Miss  Virginia. 

When  Mrs.  Pratt  entered,  she  found  Virginia  pros 
trated  with  emotion  in  her  chair.  Her  tears  were  rolling 
down  on  her  cheeks  like  a  series  of  precious  pearls.  She 
held  in  her  hands  that  package  of  letters  tied  with  the  old 
ribbon.  When  she  saw  her  aunt  entering  the  room,  she 
said:  "Auntie,  sit  down  here  next  to  me,  and  read  this 
letter."  Then  she  untied  the  ribbon,  took  that  one  par 
ticular  letter,  the  source  of  her  mortifications  during  sev 
eral  years,  and  giving  it  to  her,  she  repeated :  "Read  this, 
auntie,  read  it,  and  tell  me,  if  you  can.  what  all  this 
means." 

Mrs.  Pratt  read  and  re-read  the  letter,  which  she  recog 
nized  as  one  written  by  the  hands  of  her  brother-in-law. 
Then  and  only  then,  she  began  to  realize  the  importance 


266 


THE     STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


of  what  she  had  heard  in  the  parlor.  Simultaneously 
when  she  learned  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  that  letter, 
she  began  to  understand  the  sudden  change  which  follow 
ed  in  Miss  Virginia's  behavior. 

"You  dear  child,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pratt,  "why  did  you 
not  tell  me  about  this  letter,  when  you  found  it?" 

In  reply  Miss  Virginia  related  the  whole  incident  of 
that  sorrowful  night,  when  she  found  the  letter,  and  con 
cluded  : 

"Now  you  understand  why  I  did  not  tell  you,  auntie. 
You  could  not  have  explained  then,  nor  can  you  offer 
any  explanation  now.  It  is  evident  that  mother  never 
told  you  anything  about  it." 

Mrs.  Pratt  began  to  think.  Suddenly  she  exclaimed: 
"Wait,  child,  I  think  I  have  something  from  your  mother 
which  will  explain  the  mystery."  Saying  this  she  left 
the  room.  After  a  few  minutes  she  returned  with  an  en 
velope  in  her  hand. 

"Here,  child,"  she  said,  "this  is  the  only  thing  I  know 
I  had  to  keep  secret  from  you.  I  kept  it  in  that  drawer 
you  were  so  anxious  to  know  the  contents  of;  read  it 
now;  perhaps  this  will  enlighten  us  on  the  subject." 

Miss  Virginia  took  the  envelope,  opened  it,  took  out 
the  one  small  sheet  of  writing  paper,  such  as  her  mother 
used  to  write  her  letters  on,  and  on  which  she  recognized 
her  mother's  handwriting,  and  began  to  read. 
"DEAR  SISTER: 

"Being  aware  that  my  end  is  approaching,  and  not 
wishing  to  carry  with  me  into  the  grave  an  important 
fact  which  concerns  my  dear  child  Virginia,  I  beg  you  to 
do  my  bidding.  In  case  anything  unusual  should  develop 
in  regard  to  Virginia,  there  is  a  box  in  the  safe  deposit 


267 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


vaults  of  N.  N.  Bank,  in  which  she  will  find  a  document, 
which  will  tell  her  the  whole  story.  The  officers  of  that 
institution  are  instructed  not  to  allow  anyone  except 
Virginia  herself  to  open  that  box.  The  key  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  bank  officers,  who  will  deliver  it  at  Vir 
ginia's  request.  But  remember,  do  not  inform  her  of 
this,  unless  you  see  an  urgent  necessity,  either  that  you 
are  in  danger  of  death,  or  that  Virginia  is  forced  to  solve 
a  mystery  which  concerns  herself  alone.  Hoping  that 
you  wrill  see  that  the  last  wish  of  your  dying  sister  is  re 
spected,  I  die  satisfied  that  I  have  accomplished  my  task. 

"Your  sister, 

"Ci,ARA  GLADSTON." 

"This  letter,"  resumed  Mrs.  Pratt,  "your  mother  had 
written  before  she  died.  She  told  me  the  day  she  died, 
that  there  was  a  paper  under  her  pillow  in  which  she  had 
stated  her  last  will;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  give  it  to  me 
then,  I  presume,  for  fear  I  would  ask  her  questions,  which 
she  did  not  care  to  discuss  with  me.  Thus  the  meaning 
of  this  letter  remains  for  me  a  mystery.  Respecting  her 
wishes  I  kept  this  letter  locked  in  my  drawer  all  these 
years,  but  now  that  this  extraordinary  revelation  has 
been  made,  I  think,  the  urgent  necessity  of  which  your 
mother  speaks  has  come,  and  that  is  why  I  acquaint  you 
with  its  tenor.  The  arguments  advanced  by  Count  Morat 
undoubtedly  are  conclusive.  The  strongest  one  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  fact  that  he  knows  of  the  existence  of  the 
birth-mark  under  your  arm.  How  in  the  world  could  he 
know  that?  At  any  rate,  the  document  of  which  your 
mother  writes  will  tell  us  more  than  we  know.  In  the 
meantime,  be  calm,  child,  until  tomorrow,  when  you  will 
go  and  examine  the  contents  of  that  document.  Now  I 


268 


THE    STORY    OF    A     LOST     CHILD. 


must  go  down  stairs  to  excuse  your  absence  in  the  parlor." 

"Count,"  said  Mrs  Pratt,  entering  the  room,  "you  will 
kindly  excuse  Miss  Virginia  for  not  coming  down.  She 
is  prostrated,  as  you  naturally  would  expect,  after  what 
she  heard  from  you.  As  for  me,  all  this  is  a  mystery. 
My  sister  never  told  me  anything  about  the  case,  although 
before  her  death,  she  left  me  an  instruction  for  Virginia, 
in  regard  to  a  document  concerning  herself,  which  is  to 
be  found  in  a  safe  deposit  vault.  This  she  is  going  to 
examine  tomorrow.  Until  then  I  have  nothing  to  say." 

When  Count  Morat  heard  of  the  document,  he  looked 
at  Mr.  Milton  significantly,  and  hastened  to  answer: 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  he.  "We  shall  wait  until  then. 
But  permit  me  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Pratt,  that  in  my  mind 
there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  my 
niece.  Kindly  give  her  my  regards." 

Saying  this  he  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Pratt  and  left 
the  house,  followed  by  Mr.  Milton  and  the  Chaldean. 

Taking  his  seat  in  the  carriage  Count  Morat  turned  to 
his  companion. 

"My  friend,  Mr.  Milton,"  he  said,  "now  that  you  know 
my  story  you  can  realize  my  joy.  I  feel  as  though  re 
born.  You  will  do  me  a  great  favor  if  you  will  drive 
with  me  to  my  house.  I  need  your  presence.  O,  I  am 
so  happy,  so  happy !  But,  poor  child !  I  can  imagine  how 
she  feels.  However,  she  will  gradually  learn  to  know, 
that  she  is  the  Princess  Helen,  and  not  Miss  Virginia 
Gladston." 

The  beautiful  team  of  white  horses  set  out  with  the 
velocity  of  an  arrow,  and  disappeared  behind  the  pepper 
trees. 

The  echo  of  the  clattering  hoofs  was  heard  far  away. 


269 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


Miss  Virginia  spent  a  sleepless  night,  the  greater  part 
of  which  was  devoted  to  the  discussion  with  her  aunt. 
They  read  time  and  again  the  letter  written  by  Mr.  Glad- 
ston  to  his  wife,  in  which  he  had  repeated  Prof.  Norton's 
words.  While  the  story  told  by  the  Count  emphatically 
indicated  the  veracity  of  the  short  sentence  of  Prof.  Nor 
ton,  Mrs.  Pratt  could  not  reconcile  herself  to  the  fact, 
that  her  sister  never  told  her  anything  that  would  suggest 
the  existence  of  such  a  pathetic  mystery.  "On  the  con 
trary,  all  indications  tended  to  the  effect,  that  you  were 
her  own  child,"  said  she,  still  holding  in  her  hand  the 
above  mentioned  letter.  "She  loved  you  more  dearly, 
more  tenderly,  than  she  ever  did  any  of  the  rest  of  her 
children;  that,  you  know  yourself;  and  as  for  Mr.  Glad- 
ston,  he  was  still  more  exuberant  in  his  love  for  you. 
The  only  thing  that  I  ever  noticed  which  seemed  to  me 
strange  was,  that  on  some  occasions  while  you  were  a 
baby,  your  mother  would  talk  to  you,  calling  you  Princess, 
'my  little  Princess,'  she  would  say,  and  then  she  would 


270 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 

look  at  your  father,  who  usually  would  follow  her  in  re 
peating  the  same  wrords.  This  seemed  to  me  rather  queer, 
for  we  Americans  don't  use  such  a  caressing  word  as 
that;  and  when  once  I  asked  her,  why  she  called  you 
Princess,  she  said  to  me,  'Why,  don't  you  think  she  looks 
like  a  real  princess?'  Now,  I  never  saw  a  princess,  so  I 
had  no  opinion  on  the  subject,  and  finally  I  concluded 
that  this  was  one  of  her  ways  of  displaying  her  love  for 
a  child  so  dear  to  her.  Of  course  this  incident  does  not 
prove  anything.  But,  when  we  come  to  consider  this 
new  revelation  and  the  instruction  your  mother  left  for 
you,  the  entire  matter  is  changed.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  there  is  some  truth  in  what  Count  Morat  said,  for 
mind  you,  when  your  mother  spoke  to  me  about  the  let 
ter  you  saw,  she  did  not  wish  to  give  it  to  me  at  the  time. 
She  said  she  would  keep  it  under  her  pillow,  and  she 
added,  should  she  die  I  had  to  take  it,  so  that  no  one 
else  would  see  it.  Now,  naturally  this  suggests  the  ques 
tion,  why  did  she  act  that  way?  The  answer  is  clear  to 
me  now.  Had  I  known  the  contents  of  what  she  had 
written,  probably  I  \vould  have  asked  her  some  questions 
in  regard  to  the  matter,  and  that  is  what  she  wished  to 
avoid.  Evidently  she  did  not  wish  to  discuss  the  matter 
for  the  fear  that  she  would  have  told  the  secret  before 
the  proper  time  had  come.  This  she  did,  let  me  tell  you, 
not  that  she  thought  I  would  not  know  how  to  keep  the 
secret,  but  since  she  had  not  told  me  from  the  beginning, 
she  did  not  want  to  divulge  the  matter  while  she  was 
near  death.  That  her  last  wishes  would  be  sacred  to  me. 
she  knew  well,  and  that  is  why  she  left  her  instructions 
with  me.  These  are  simply  my  surmises,  but  of  course 


271 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  whole  thing  will  be  cleared  up  by  that  document  now 
in  the  safe." 

Miss  Virginia  listened  to  her  aunt  patiently.  All  this 
seemed  to  her  like  a  dream.  Her  brain  decidedly  refused 
to  do  its  work,  for  she  could  not  discuss  anything  sys 
tematically. 

On  occasions  like  this,  time  passes  very  quickly.  It 
was  late  in  the  night  when  Mrs.  Pratt  left  the  room,  ad 
vising  Miss  Virginia  to  go  to  bed.  She  followed  the  ad 
vice,  but  sleep  did  not  come.  She  was  thinking. 

The  story  told  by  the  Count  was  so  real,  so  impressive, 
that  she  could  not  forget  it  for  one  second.  Its  picture 
stood  before  her  as  vivid  as  though  enacted  before  her 
eyes.  Could  there  be  any  doubt  in  the  face  of  the  testi 
mony  given  by  an  eye-witness,  an  old  servant?  Yonan 
had  recognized  the  picture  of  Mr.  Gladston,  and  he  must 
have  known  her  also,  for  she  was  told  of  that  mark  under 
her  arm,  a  thing  unknown  to  anybody  except  herself  and 
her  aunt.  But  then  if  she  were  not  a  child  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Gladston,  why  did  they  have  her  as  their  own,  and 
love  her  as  they  did?  Why  did  she  herself  love  them  as 
a  child  loves  its  own  parents  ?  Was  not  the  parental  love 
due  to  the  fact  that  parents  were  instrumental  in  causing 
the  existence  of  a  child,  and  whose  flesh  and  blood  made 
the  child  what  it  was?  WTas  not  the  filial  love  and  at 
tachment  due  to  the  same  reason?  Contemplating  this 
problem,  she  was  forced  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
if  the  revelation  made  by  the  Count  was  true,  it  was  ap 
parent  that  this  was  not  the  case.  This  popular  belief 
evidently  was  based  upon  a  futile  theory,  which  did  not 
agree  with  the  reality ;  for  there  were  cases  where  people 
loved  a  child  as  their  own  although  not  born  from  them ; 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


and  again  there  were  cases  where  parents  not  only  did 
not  love  their  children,  but  nourished  a  hatred  for  them 
that  was  phenomenal.  The  conception  involved  in  the 
case  was  decidedly  wrong,  inasmuch  as  it  ascribed  the 
existence  of  a  child  solely  to  the  act  of  productiveness  of 
its  parents,  forgetful  of  the  other  important  fact,  that 
the  newly  born  child  does  not  commence  its  existence 
with  the  moment  of  its  conception  by  the  mother ;  nor  is 
it  an  entity  which  comes  into  existence  as  a  mechanical 
result  of  parental  union.  It  became  evident  to  her,  that 
there  was  the  working  of  causality  behind  it,  which  some 
times,  as  in  her  own  case,  made  a  child  become  as  dear 
and  as  important  to  the  happiness  of  its  casual  parents, 
as  the  one  for  whom  parental  love  was  ascribed  to  the 
fact  that  it  was  a  part  and  portion  of  the  flesh  and  blood 
of  its  parents.  Then  she  thought  of  changes  which 
would  necessarily  follow,  should  the  revelation  made  by 
Count  Morat  prove  to  be  true.  Would  this  revelation 
change  anything  in  her  life?  Oh,  no.  No  matter  what 
her  name,  what  her  origin,  she  would  remain  the  same 
as  before,  for  her  entity,  which  was  the  soul  and  sub 
stance  of  her  life,  could  not  be  altered.  Yet,  the  name 
and  the  family  connections  meant  something  after  all. 
Were  she  told  that  she  was  a  child  of  unknown  parents, 
would  not  that  mortify  her?  Would  not  she  feel  humili 
ated?  Would  not  such  an  alternative  break  her 
heart?  If  so,  why  should  that  take  place,  since  the  newly 
born  child's  existence  did  not  originate  with  its  parents? 
What  difference  would  it  make  whose  child  she  was? 
Here,  her  knowledge  of  the  law  of  causality  came  to  her 
assistance  again.  It  was  certain  that  the  shaping  of  the 
life  of  a  newly  born  child  was  a  direct  result  of  its  own 


273 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


previous  lives  and  deeds  which  followed  it  from  afar; 
for  causes  of  the  past  were  bound  to  produce  a  corre 
sponding  result.     Then,  if  there  was  anything  really  re 
grettable,  it  was  the  past,  which  caused  the  present.     A 
child  born  of  plebeian  parents,  has  to  look  for  the  causes 
which  mould  its  present  life  in  the  past,  as  well  as  the  one 
born  in  a  princely  family.     Each  human  entity  makes  its 
own  future  by  its  own  acts  of  the  past  as  a  constructive 
power  of  causality.     What  you  were,  makes  you  what 
you  are.     Therefore  it  was  greatly  consoling  to  her  to 
know  that  she  was  born  in  a  princely  family,  for  in  this 
fact  she  saw  her  past  as  one  which  was  not  only  not  re 
grettable  but  highly  encouraging.     Then    she   began    to 
think  of  her  present  family.     Corinne,  Camille,  Charley, 
what  about  them  ?    Would  she  have  to  leave  them  ?    Oh, 
no;  never.     She  would  never  abandon  them.     She  would 
perform  her  assumed  duties  to  the  last  moment.     Thus 
absorbed  in  her  thought,  she  viewed  her  past  and  future 
life  in  colors  which,  now  encouraging,  now  dishearten 
ing,  consumed  her  pure  soul  like  the  flames  of  a  burning 
furnace.     It  was  towards  the  early  morning,  when  en 
tirely  exhausted,  Miss  Virginia  felt  overcome  by  sleep. 
Yet   she  thought  she  saw  her  mother  standing  beside  her 
bed  smiling  at  her.     She  seemed  happy;    and  then  she 
thought  she  heard  her  voice :     "Sleep  child ;  sleep,"  the 
mother  said.     "Do  not  be  disturbed.     Before  the  expira 
tion  of  another  day  you  will  be  as  happy  as  when  you 
knew  nothing  about  the  mystery  you  are  facing  now." 
Then  the  mother  disappeared,  and  she  found  herself  in 
an  immense  fairy-land,  where    she  saw    more    wonders 
than  ever  before. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  skies,  majestically  throwing 


274 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


its  vivifying  rays,  when  Miss  Virginia  opened  her  eyes. 
She  arose  feverishly,  and  in  short  order  she  found  her 
self  in  the  dining  room,  where  her  aunt  was  waiting  for 
her.  During  breakfast  they  had  their  consultation,  and 
decided  they  would  go  together  to  the  bank  in  search  of 
the  document.  But  when  they  came  to  the  indicated  in 
stitution,  they  were  refused  access  to  the  safe  deposit 
vaults,  on  the  ground  that  both  ladies  were  unknown  to 
the  officials.  Upon  hearing  this  Miss  Virginia  immedi 
ately  telephoned  to  Mr.  Milton,  requesting  him  to  come 
to  the  bank.  When  shortly  after  she  saw  him  entering 
the  lobby  of  the  building,  she  left  her  aunt  in  the  cosy 
corner  purposely  arranged  for  the  ladies,  and  meeting 
him  half  way  explained  why  she  wanted  him. 

"Why,  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  shaking  hands  with 
her,  "what  does  all  this  mean?  I  had  no  opportunity  to 
speak  to  you  last  night  when  I  left  your  house.  Count 
Morat  wanted  me  to  drive  with  him  to  his  home,  which 
I  did  gladly,  wishing  to  hear  more  if  possible  about  the 
matter.  He  is  positive  in  his  findings.  But,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  so  amazed  with  what  I  had  heard  that  when 
I  went  home  I  told  my  mother  the  surprising  story,  and 
knowing  nothing  from  you  I  did  not  know  to  what  con 
clusion  to  come.  I  spent  a  sleepless  night  thinking  of  this 
extraordinary  revelation.  Tell  me,  Virginia,  have  you 
had  any  knowledge  of  this?  Do  you  know  anything 
about  it  ?" 

"About  the  story  told  by  the  Count,  I  knew  absolutely 
nothing,"  answered  Miss  Virginia.  "All  this  is  new  to 
me.  But  if  the  story  told  by  Count  Morat  is  corroborated 
by  the  document  we  are  after,  then  it  would  follow  that 
I  knew  something  about  it." 


275 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"What?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Milton,  greatly  surprised. 
"Do  you  mean  to  say,  that  you  knew  the  fact  that  you 
were  not  a  child  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladston  ?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  Miss  Virginia.  "I 
simply  said,  I  must  have  known  something  about  it.  But 
this  saying,  I  suppose,  does  not  explain  anything.  Be 
sides,  I  think  the  proper  time  has  come  that  I  should  tell 
you  what  I  have  promised  to  tell  you."  Saying  this  she 
opened  her  handbag,  and  finding  the  letter  in  question, 
said :  "Fortunately  the  letter  is  here.  Read  this  and  you 
will  know  what  you  wanted  to  know  during  the  last  few 
years." 

Mr.  Milton  took  the  letter,  but  before  opening  it,  said : 

"Then  this  is  what  you  have  been  hiding  from  me?  Is 
that  what  you  meant,  Virginia?" 

"Yes,  this  is  the  source  of  all  my  sufferings  from  that 
memorable  day,  which  you  remember  so  well.  Read  it 
and  you  will  know  all,"  concluded  Miss  Virginia. 

Mr.  Milton  feverishly  began  the  reading.  When  he 
read  the  passage  in  question  he  dropped  his  hand  holding 
the  letter,  and  looked  at  Miss  Virginia  with  surprise. 

"Why,  dear  girl,"  said  he,  with  his  sympathetic  voice, 
"while  this  seems  very  strange,  I  don't  see  why  it  should 
have  alarmed  you.  It  is  a  sentence  which  could  be  ex 
plained  in  many  ways  without  affecting  your  sensitive 
ness  at  all,  for  it  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  this 
adopted  daughter  was  you.  But,  after  all,  do  you  think 
this  has  anything  to  do  with  the  story  told  by  the  Count?" 

"If  Count  Morat's  narrative  is  corroborated  by  the 
statement  of  the  document  in  question,  that  sentence  you 
read  is  simply  a  prelude  to  the  story,"  said  Miss  Vir 
ginia  calmly. 


276 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 

"Very  true,"  said  Mr.  Milton.  "Then  let  us  see 
whether  there  is  such  a  document,  which  will  corroborate 
this  statement." 

Having  found  the  proper  official  of  the  bank,  whom 
Mr.  Milton  knew  well,  he  introduced  both  ladies,  ex 
plaining  the  object  of  their  errand.  After  the  examina 
tion  of  the  written  instructions  in  the  records  of  the  bank, 
Miss  Virginia  alone  was  admitted  to  the  vaults,  where 
she  opened  the  box  indicated,  in  which  she  found  a  big 
envelope  addressed  to  herself.  When  she  came  back  to 
the  ground  floor,  she  showed  the  sealed  envelope  to  her 
aunt  and  Mr.  Milton.  It  was  decided  that  the  ladies 
should  go  home  and  first  examine  the  contents  by  them 
selves.  Thus  losing  no  time  the  two  ladies  with  palpitat 
ing  hearts,  hastily  returned  to  Adams  street.  Reaching 
the  house  they  shut  themselves  in  Miss  Virginia's  room 
to  read  the  document.  In  the  meantime  Mr.  Milton  re 
turned  to  his  office  and  waited  patiently  for  the  solution 
of  the  mystery. 

Following  the  arrangements  agreed  upon,  Mr.  Milton, 
after  his  office  hours,  went  directly  to  Count  Morat's 
house  for  dinner.  Shortly  after  his  arrival  there,  a  mes 
senger  brought  a  sealed  letter  addressed  to  the  Count. 
The  letter  was  written  by  Mrs.  Pratt,  requesting  Count 
Morat  and  Mr.  Milton  to  come  to  her  house  as  soon  as 
convenient.  Accordingly,  immediately  after  dinner  the 
two  friends  drove  to  Adams  street. 

The  parlor  was  brilliantly  illuminated.  Silence  was  the 
reigning  element,  and  the  house  seemed  deserted.  Shortly 
Mrs.  Pratt  and  Miss  Virginia  entered  the  parlor.  After 
the  usual  greetings,  Miss  Virginia  requested  that  Mr. 
Milton  should  read  the  document  she  had  found  that 


277 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


morning  in  the  safe  deposit  vaults.  It  was  quite  evident 
that  both  ladies  had  familiarized  themselves  with  the  con 
tents  of  the  document,  for  they  both  had  a  solemn  ex 
pression. 

Mr.  Milton  took  the  paper,  looked  it  over,  and  before 
beginning1  its  reading,  asked  Miss  Virginia  whether  she 
recognized  the  handwriting  of  her  father,  whose  name 
he  saw  signed  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  calmly.  "The  writing  is 

that  of "  here  she  hesitated  a  little,  and  finally  ended, 

"my  father,  followed  with  that  of  my  mother." 

"The  document  is  perfectly  authentic,"  joined  Mrs. 
Pratt.  "There  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  both  Mr.  Glad- 
ston  and  my  sister  have  signed  the  document,  so  please 
proceed  with  its  reading." 

Thus  having  ascertained  the  authenticity  of  the  docu 
ment,  Mr.  Milton  commenced  to  read  aloud : 

"Los  Angeles,  California,   190.  .  .  . 
"My  dear  child  Virginia : 

"It  is  with  pain  that  I  am  writing  this,  in  order  to  re 
veal  to  you,  my  dearest  child,  a  truth  concerning  yourself. 
However,  I  am  doing  this  as  an  act  of  obligation  which 
I  have  assumed  and  which  I  do  not  wish  to  carry  with 
me  to  my  grave.  The  story  is  this :  When  Clara  and  I 
\vere  returning  from  our  two  years'  stay  in  the  Arabian 
wilderness,  in  company  with  Prof,  and  Mrs.  Norton,  we 
decided  to  take  the  northern  route  in  order  to  see  that 
interesting  country,  and  by  the  way  do  some  archaeologi 
cal  researches  in  the  northern  part  of  that  country.  But 
fate  had  decreed  otherwise.  When  we  reached  a  village 
by  the  name  of  Alkosh,  after  one  day's  journey  from 
Mosul,  we  learned  that  Omar  Agha.  a  fierce  Kurdish  po- 


273 


THE  READING  OF  THE  D  O  C  U  M  E  N  T. 


tentate,  had  invaded  the  Christian  provinces  through 
which  we  had  to  pass,  and  was  causing  untold  devasta 
tion  plundering  and  massacring  all  he  found  on  his  way. 
Having  ascertained  this  as  an  authentic  fact,  we  were  ad 
vised  by  the  Christians  of  Alkosh  not  to  go  that  way.  It 
was  certain  that  we  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Kurdish  bandit,  and  this  meant  a  sure  death  to  all  of  us. 
Common  sense  dictated  we  should  follow  the  given  ad 
vice.  Accordingly  we  changed  our  plans  and  decided  to 
take  the  western  route,  the  one  \ve  crossed  when  we  came 
first,  and  after  a  few  days'  delay,  we  started  our  returning 
trip,  going  through  the  cities  of  Djezireh,  Nessebin,  and 
Merdin.  When  we  reached  the  little  city  of  Orfa,  we 
found  there  a  plague,  which  was  worse  yet  than  that 
menacing  us  had  we  gone  by  the  northern  route ;  for  we 
discovered  that  Asiatic  cholera  was  raging  in  that  city, 
killing  people  by  hundreds.  Our  caravan  stopped  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  little  town  with  the  intention  of  resting 
our  animals  for  a  couple  of  hours,  intending  to  continue 
our  journey  during  the  night.  While  we  were  resting,  a 
man  by  the  name  of  Yonan,  a  native  Chaldean,  came  di 
rectly  to  our  tent  and  imploringly  requested  me  to  go 
with  him  to  the  town,  where  his  master,  a  European  gen 
tleman,  was  dying.  It  was  a  very  dangerous  undertak 
ing,  but  for  some  unknown  reason,  I  had  no  fear  of  the 
plague,  and  I  instantly  followed  him.  I  found  as  he  had 
told  us,  his  master  dying.  Suddenly,  as  though  animated 
by  a  miraculous  power,  the  sick  man  opened  his  eyes  and 
spoke  to  me,  first  in  French  and  next  in  perfect  English. 
'Do  not  come  near  me,  whoever  you  are.'  said  he.  'Know 
ing  that  you  are  a  European,  I  beseech  you,  listen  to  the 
appeal  of  a  dying  man.  I  am  Prince  Benedict  Muratt. 


279 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


the  rest  you  will  know  from  my  servant,  Yonan,  who  is 
present  here.  My  wife,  who  was  with  me,  died  a  few 
days  ago,  following  the  death  of  her  nurse.  Now  it  is 
my  turn  to  follow  them.  But,  O,  man,  whoever  you  are, 
listen :  I  have  here  a  child,  a  baby  girl  only  six  months 
old.  For  God's  sake,  take  that  child  under  your  care. 
Save  her  from  certain  death,  for  pity's  sake.  My  brother, 
Prince  Lucian,  is  coming  from  Constantinople.  He  will 
be  here  soon.  Take  the  baby,  I  beseech  you ;  for,  other 
wise,  if  death  does  not  take  her,  she  will  be  spirited 
away,  and  eventually  will  become  a  plaything  in  the 

hands  of  native  barbarians .'     Here  his  voice  became 

very  weak  and  he  stopped.  But  after  a  few  seconds  he 
opened  his  eyes  again,  and  now  in  a  stronger  voice  he 
said:  'Will  you  take  my  child,  stranger?'  'Yes,  sir,'  I 
answered.  'I  will  take  her  and  do  as  much  for  her  as 
you  would  were  you  in  my  place.'  'Thanks,'  he  mur 
mured  slowly.  'God  bless  you ;  now,  I  may  die  peace 
fully.'  These  were  his  last  words.  I  immediately 
hastened  to  see  where  the  child  was.  This  man  Yonan 
took  me  to  a  near-by  house  where  I  found  the  sweet  little 
baby.  I  took  the  little  girl  in  my  arms  and  carried  her 
as  fast  as  I  could  walk  to  my  tent,  and  gave  her  to  Clara. 
Dear  Virginia,  this  sweet  little  baby  was  you.  A  couple 
of  hours  later,  this  same  man  Yonan  came  to  announce 
that  his  master  was  dead.  Now  that  I  had  you  under 
my  care,  I  wanted  to  know  about  your  parents  as  much 
as  I  could  learn.  The  first  thing.  I  went  to  see  the  dead 
Prince,  your  father.  Having  verified  the  fact  that  he  was 
dead,  I  obtained  from  the  servant  a  pack  of  papers  which 
his  master  had  directed  him  to  leave  with  the  child  wher 
ever  she  might  be,  and  which  you  will  find  in  this  en- 


280 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


velope  containing  this,  my  writing.  After  a  short  con 
sultation  with  Clara,  we  decided  not  to  stay  in  Orfa  any 
longer  than  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  and  to  go  direct 
ly  to  Haleb,  which  being  a  larger  city  with  many  Eu 
ropean  accommodations,  would  afford  us  better  protec 
tion  than  any  other  place.  Before  leaving  Orfa,  how 
ever,  I  gave  my  card  to  this  man  Yonan  with  instructions 
that  should  Prince  Lucian,  your  uncle,  arrive  in  time,  he 
would  find  us  in  the  city  of  Haleb  by  inquiring  at  the 
English  Consulate  of  that  city.  (*)  Thus  we  hurriedly 
left  Orfa  and  proceeded  to  Haleb.  After  five  days' 
tedious  journey,  the  day  we  expected  to  enter  the  city 
of  Haleb,  we  saw  a  mass  of  people  fleeing  from  that  city 
in  all  directions.  From  them,  alas,  we  learned,  that  chol 
era  was  doing  its  deadly  work  in  that  city  more  than  any 
where  else.  We  had  no  choice.  Instantly  we  decided 
not  to  enter  the  stricken  town,  and  instead  to  follow  the 
route  to  the  seaport.  Fortunately  for  us,  as  long  as  we 
were  in  the  open  air  and  away  from  the  cities  and  vil 
lages,  we  were  out  of  danger  of  the  plague.  Accordingly 
we  left  the  city  of  Haleb  on  one  side,  and  started  our 
journey  to  Eskenderun,  the  nearest  seaport  on  the  Medi 
terranean.  After  another  four  days'  wearisome  travel, 
we  reached  our  destination,  but,  lo,  even  here  we  could 
not  enter  the  city  for  the  same  reason.  The  plague  had 
taken  possession  of  this  locality  simultaneously  with  the 
rest  of  the  country.  But,  after  all,  providence  protected 
us  better  than  we  could  have  expected.  Looking  from 
the  top  of  a  hill  behind  the  city,  where  our  caravan  stop- 


(*)  In  the  days  when  this  story  took  place,  there  were  no 
American  representatives  in  those  cities.  Now  there  is  an 
American  consul  in  the  city  of  Eskenderun  or  Alexandretta, 
and  a  consular  agent  in  the  city  of  Haleb,  or  Aleppo. 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


ped,  we  saw  in  the  port  of  Eskenderun,  a  big  steamer, 
which,  by  the  display  of  its  flags,  we  recognized  as  an 
English  merchantman,  ready  to  sail  for  England.  Our 
joy  had  no  limits,  for  this  was  our  only  salvation.  Thus, 
without  stopping  in  the  city,  we  boarded  the  steamer,  by 
special  favor  of  Captain  Cook,  who  happened  to  know 
some  of  Prof.  Norton's  friends  in  London,  and  owing  to 
this  truly  miraculous  incident,  we  were  saved  from  cer 
tain  destruction.  All  of  this  time,  you,  dear  child,  were 
carried  in  our  arms.  Every  one  of  us  four  carried  you, 
one  after  the  other,  for  there  was  no  other  way  for  your 
safety.  When  we  were  located  on  the  steamer, 
where  we  could  breathe  freely,  we  all  had  much  needed 
rest  and  comfort,  thanks  to  Captain  Cook.  Finding  our 
trip  on  the  steamer  quite  comfortable,  we  decided  not  to 
land  until  we  had  reached  the  shores  of  England.  During 
the  time  of  our  journey,  you  were  known  to  all  we  met 
as  our  own  child.  Owing  to  the  necessity  of  our  avoid 
ing  Haleb  and  Eskenderun,  the  only  two  cities  on  our 
way  after  leaving  Orfa,  we  lost  all  hopes  of  meeting 
Prince  Lucian,  your  uncle.  But  still  we  were  expecting 
to  hear  from  him  soon.  Thus  we  reached  London.  Be 
fore  entering  the  English  capital,  however,  we  decided 
amongst  ourselves  to  present  you  to  my  uncle  in  that 
city,  with  whom  we  intended  to  stop,  as  our  o\vn  child. 
We  had  a  solemn  promise  from  Prof.  Norton  and  his 
wife,  that  they  would  not  mention  the  incident  of  Orfa. 
This  was  done  with  propriety.  I  had  your  uncle's  ad 
dress  in  Constantinople.  To  that  city  I  directed  my  let 
ter  to  him,  but  several  weeks  passed  and  we  heard  noth 
ing  from  him.  Here  I  must  tell  you  a  secret  of  our  own. 
A  few  months  after  Clara  and  I  were  married,  she  learn- 


282 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


ed  from  her  physician,  that  owing  to  some  complications 
of  a  delicate  nature  she  was  denied  the  privilege  of  ever 
becoming  a  mother.  This  proved  to  be  a  fact  during  the 
first  four  years  of  our  married  Life,  preceding  the  inci 
dent  in  Orfa  and  several  years  afterwards.  It  was  a  very 
sad  thing  for  both  of  us  to  know  that  we  never  would 
have  children,  for  we  would  have  loved  to  have  had  chil 
dren  of  our  own.  Having  this  fact  in  view,  now  that  we 
had  a  child  as  pretty,  as  charming,  as  you  were  when  I 
took  you  in  accordance  with  the  express  wishes  of  your 
dying  father,  we  decided,  should  your  uncle,  Prince 
Lucian,  not  find  us,  we  would  keep  you  for  our  own. 
With  this  determination  we  sailed  for  America.  It  seems 
as  though  by  magic,  we  forgot  that  you  were  the  Princess 
Helen,  the  only  daughter  of  Prince  Benedict  Muratt,  and 
we  named  you  Virginia,  after  our  native  state.  When  we 
arrived  home,  of  course  we  presented  you  to  our  family 
as  our  own  daughter,  who  was  born  to  us  in  the  city  of 
Mosul  during  our  stay  there.  Years  passed  and  we  heard 
nothing  of  Prince  Lucian,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  we  were 
glad  of  it.  for  we  were  not  anxious  to  see  you  taken  away 
from  us.  In  my  letter  to  your  uncle  I  gave  my  address 
care  of  Prof.  Norton,  in  London,  but  as  events  proved, 
nothing  came  out  of  that.  As  for  the  assurances  that 
Clara  never  would  become  a  mother,  subsequent  events 
have  demonstrated  that  medical  men  are  not  omniscient, 
and  that  they  carry  their  limitations  like  any  other  mor 
tal,  for,  as  you  know,  Clara  gave  birth  to  three  robust 
children,  who  with  you  make  the  little  family  of  ours. 
Here  is  the  end  of  the  story.  I  am  writing  this,  dear 
Virginia,  for  as  you  know  I  am  ill  and  eventually  I  may 
die.  I  will  die  probably  very  soon,  and  as  sometimes 


283 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


strange  things  happen,  who  knows,  it  may  occur  that 
your  uncle,  Prince  Lucian,  may  find  you  yet ;  in  that  case, 
this  revelation  of  mine  will  perhaps  be  of  some  service  to 
you  and  justice  to  your  princely  family.  However,  be 
fore  I  conclude,  let  me  tell  you,  dear  child,  do  not  think 
for  a  moment  that  you  ever  were  to  us  anything  but  the 
dearest  child  of  our  own.  If  we  have  in  any  way  ne 
glected  to  perform  our  obligations  towards  you,  perhaps 
it  was  in  the  fact,  that  we  did  not  try  to  communicate 
with  the  members  of  your  family,  especially  with  your 
uncle.  For  although  we  did  not  receive  an  answer  to 
our  letter  addressed  to  him  and  directed  to  Constanti 
nople,  there  was  nothing  easier  in  the  world  than  to  find 
your  relatives,  a  family  so  well  known  all  over  Europe, 
if  only  we  had  tried.  But  we  did  not  do  this,  due  solely 
to  that  deeply  rooted  and  invincible  love  we  had  con 
ceived  for  you,  dearest  child,  the  moment  you  came  in 
our  charge.  We  loved  you  as  our  own.  Should  you 
blame  me  for  my  love  for  you,  then,  Virginia,  please  par 
don, 

"Your  loving  father, 

"EDWARD  B.  GLADSTON." 
"Dear  Virginia: 

"Before  the  death  of  my  husband,  he  wrote  this  docu 
ment  with  his  own  hand  and  in  my  presence.  The  reason 
is  given  within  it.  I  had  this  paper  in  my  keeping  until 
now.  But  now  that  I  feel  I  am  to  follow  him,  I  write 
these  few  words  to  corroborate  the  above  statement,  and 
bless  you  with  that  motherly  love  which  animated  me  for 
you  all  my  life  and  with  which  I  die, 

"Your  loving  mother, 

"CI.ARA  GLADSTON." 


284 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


When  Mr.  Milton  finished  the  reading,  he  found  tears 
in  every  eye  he  looked  upon.  The  silence  which  followed 
was  of  a  pathetic  solemnity. 

Having  wiped  away  his  tears,  Count  Morat  arose,  and 
approaching  Miss  Virginia,  took  both  of  her  hands  in 
his,  and  said : 

"Now  come,  come,  dear  child,  and  let  me  press  you  to 
my  heart." 

Miss  Virginia  fell  in  his  arms,  and  her  tears  of  joy 
found  their  way  to  the  tender  heart  of  the  man  who  now 
was  to  her,  her  father,  mother  and  whole  family. 

The  stately  figure  of  Count  Morat,  radiant  with  untold 
bliss,  tenderly  holding  in  his  arms  the  golden-haired  girl, 
whose  shapely  head  charmingly  reposed  on  his  left  shoul 
der,  a  Princess  that  she  was  by  birth  and  by  her  noble 
qualities,  was  a  picture  worthy  of  admiration. 

The  reigning  silence,  which  told  volumes  of  sufferings 
and  disappointments  of  the  past,  deeply  inscribed  in  the 
heart  of  a  loving  uncle,  was  the  dawning  of  better  days 
for  the  man  who  sought  his  happiness  in  the  bosom  of 
his  family  ties. 

Overwhelmed  with  emotion,  Count  Morat,  silent  and 
imposing,  conducted  his  niece  to  the  sofa  and  sat  next 
to  her. 

At  this  solemn  moment  a  human  shadow,  which  dur 
ing  all  this  time  was  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  parlor, 
approached  the  sofa.  This  was  Yonan,  the  Chaldean. 
He  bent  his  knee  reverently  before  Miss  Virginia,  took 
both  of  her  hands,  and  kissing  them  tenderly,  said: 

"My  Princess — my  Princess  Helen — These  little  hands 
I  have  kissed  many  and  many  times  when  I  carried  you 


285 


THE     SEARCHERS. 


in  my  arms.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  permitted  me  to 
see  you  again.  Oh,  Princess,  when  I  think  of  you  when 
you  were  a  baby,  and  of  my  dying-  master,  the  Prince, 
your  father,  I  cannot  help  crying.  When  I  lost  that  card, 
which  that  good,  noble  man  gave  to  me,  when  he  took 
you  from  my  arms,  1  lost  you,  my  Princess,  and  that  was 
the  saddest  moment  of  my  life.  The  dying  Prince  said 
to  me;  'Yonan,  see  that  the  baby  is  in  the  hands  of  my 
brother.'  These  were  the  last  words  of  your  father.  I 
promised  him  to  do  so  faithfully,  but,  alas !  I  was  not  able 
to  accomplish  the  task.  It  was  my  fault  that  you  were 
lost  to  us,  and  that  is  what  made  me  suffer  the  most  all 
these  years.  But  I  vowed  solemnly  to  stay  with  my  mas 
ter,  your  uncle,  and  search  for  you,  Princess,  until  you 
were  found.  Now  that  this  blessed  moment  has  come, 
permit  me " 

He  could  not  finish  his  sentence,  for  over-abundance 
of  tears  choked  his  throat.  His  was  the  cry  of  a  faith 
ful  servant,  who  believed  that  he  was  the  cause  of  the 
misfortune  of  his  master's  family. 

Miss  Virginia  was  deeply  moved  by  this  unexpected 
display  of  emotion  of  the  old  servant  of  her  father.  $he 
wished  to  comfort  him,  but  for  the  moment  could  not 
find  consoling  words. 

"Arise,  Yonan,"  she  murmured,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
holding  his  hand.  "I  thank  you  for  your  sympathy  and 
faithful  services.  You  have  suffered  a  great  deal,  I 
know,  but  I  hope  you  shall  not  suffer  any  more.  Some 
other  time  you  will  tell  me  more  about  my  dead  parents, 
whom  you  have  served  so  loyally,  so  faithfully;  but  now 
be  cheerful." 


286 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


Yonan  kissed  her  hand  again  respectfully,  and  left  the 
room. 

After  sad  emotions,  ordinarily  follows  a  reaction, 
especially  on  an  occasion  like  this.  Gradually  the  whole 
company  became  calmer,  and  conversation  now  took  a 
more  cheerful  tone. 

At  this  juncture,  a  little  voice  coming  through  the  door 
leading  to  the  hall,  said : 

"May  I  come  in,  Virginia?" 

"Why,  Corinne,"  exclaimed  Miss  Virginia,  running 
to  meet  the  little  girl,  "of  course  you  may ;  but  what  are 
you  doing  here?" 

"O,  dear  Virginia,"  said  Corinne,  "we  all  were  in  the 
library,  and  now  that  you  are  a  Princess,  can  I  kiss  you, 
can  I?" 

"O,  dear  little  soul,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  kissing  her 
tenderly,  and  taking  her  on  her  knees  when  she  sat  on  the 
sofa,  "I  am  always  your  Virginia  and  nothing  more." 
Then  turning  to  Count  Morat,  she  added : 

"You  and  Yonan  have  been  making  a  baby  of  me;  but, 
don't  you  see  I  have  a  big  baby  of  my  own?  I  don't 
think  anyone  ever  loved  me  as  much  as  I  love  my  Cor 
inne." 

"We  did,"  said  Camille  and  Charley,  in  a  chorus,  now 
standing  behind  the  sofa. 

It  was  apparent  that  everybody  in  the  house  knew  the 
pathetic  story  told  by  the  interested  witnesses. 

Count  Morat,  perfectly  charmed  with  the  affection  dis 
played  by  Miss  Virginia  for  a  family  that  was  hers  de 
facto,  although  not  de  jure,  was  very  anxious  to  investi 
gate  a  few  more  details  in  connection  with  the  case,  and 
said: 


287 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"By  the  way,  Virginia,  we  have  not  finished  our  busi 
ness  as  yet.  May  I  examine  the  papers  of  which  Mr. 
Gladston  speaks  in  his  letter  to  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  here  they  are,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  taking 
the  big  envelope  from  the  table  standing  near  the  sofa 
and  giving  it  to  the  Count. 

When  Count  Morat  examined  the  papers,  he  found 
various  documents  relative  to  his  family  affairs,  and 
which  he  expected  to  find  with  the  lost  child.  Showing 
them  to  Miss  Virginia,  he  explained  the  importance  of 
each  of  them. 

"Now  I  have  to  tell  my  story,"  said  Miss  Virginia, 
when  Count  Morat  had  finished  his  remarks,  and  she  re 
lated  the  discovery  of  that  letter  which  long  before  this 
had  told  her  the  uncertainty  of  her  birth. 

Hearing  this,  Count  Morat  remarked  that  there  is 
nothing  that  happens  without  a  purpose.  This  short  and 
ambiguous  sentence  in  the  letter  mentioned  has  performed 
its  mission.  Through  it  Miss  Virginia  learned  what  it 
was  to  be  in  uncertainty.  The  sufferings  which  followed 
the  discovery,  gave  her  much  thought  and  reflection, 
which  ultimately  were  bound  to  produce  beneficial  results, 
and  concluded  by  saying  that  after  the  establishment  of 
the  fact  of  Miss  Virginia's  birth  in  a  princely  family,  she 
was  entitled  to  learn  something  about  her  ancestors. 
Then  turning  to  Miss  Virginia,  he  continued : 

"The  story  of  your  family,  dear  child,  is  quite  roman 
tic.  The  family,  as  the  name  indicates,  is  of  French  or 
igin.  My  father,  Prince  Alexander  Bonaventura  Muratt, 
while  in  the  service  of  the  French  army,  with  the  rank 
of  a  general,  met  in  Paris  and  became  acquainted  with 


288 


THE  READING  OP  THE  DOCUMENT. 


the  last  dethroned  Georgian  Queen  and  her  only  daugh 
ter,  while  they  were  making4  a  tour  through  Europe.  The 
gallant  general  fell  in  love  with  the  charming  Georgian 
Princess,  and  having  succeeded  in  gaining  her  favor, 
shortly  after  the  first  meeting  they  were  united  in  the 
bonds  of  matrimony.  In  accordance  with  the  agreement 
stipulated  in  the  marriage  contract,  the  general  left 
France  and  followed  his  adored  wife  to  live  in  her  coun 
try,  Caucasus.  As  you  know,  this  beautiful  country  of 
Caucasus,  after  centuries  of  vicissitudes,  was  finally  sub 
jugated  by  Russian  diplomacy  in  1803,  and  made  a  part 
of  that  vast  empire.  The  result  was  that  all  governing 
bodies  of  that  country  were  deposed  and  most  of  them 
were  taken  to  the  Russian  capitals,  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow,  to  be  Russianized.  My  grandfather, — my 
mother's  father — was  the  last  King  of  Imeretia,  a  most 
beautiful  country.  Located  on  the  south  side  of  the  majes 
tic  Caucasian  Mountains,  with  its  productive  soil  and  im 
mensely  rich  flora,  Imeretia  is  a  land  of  a  great  variety 
of  fruits,  vines  and  minerals,  and  of  a  most  beautiful 
specimen  of  humanity,  representing  the  origin  of  the  so- 
called  Caucasian  race  to  which  Europe  and  America  be 
long.  The  old  king  having  witnessed  the  sad  despolia 
tion  of  his  country  at  the  hands  of  Russians,  and  his  hu 
miliating  deposition  from  the  royal  dignity,  dejected  and 
dispirited  in  his  deep  grief  and  sorrow,  died  heart-broken 
in  the  capital  of  his  ancestors,  the  city  of  Kutais.  In  that 
city  your  father  and  I  were  born,  and  you  also;  for  it 
was  while  we  were  living  there,  that  your  father  married 
the  Princess  Nina  Norbeliani,  a  most  beautiful  lady  of 
that  land,  and  from  this  union  you  were  born,  dear  child. 


289 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


Thus  you  see,  that  from  your  father's  side  you  represent 
an  ancient  family  of  France,  and  from  your  mother's 
side  the  noble  blood  of  Georgian  princes  throbs  in  your 
veins.  You  were  named  Helen  Clementina  after  my 
mother.  My  father  died  before  I  had  reached  my  ma 
turity.  About  that  time  the  question  of  a  great  railroad 
in  the  heart  of  Asiatic  Turkey  was  agitated  amongst  the 
capitalists  of  France  and  Germany.  To  an  old  timer  un 
doubtedly  it  would  seem  queer  to  see  a  Prince  taking  an 
active  part  in  a  commercial  undertaking  of  that  kind. 
But  considering  that  conceptions  of  propriety  in  all  things 
have  been  lately  rapidly  changing,  and  the  fact  that  your 
father  was  a  man  of  great  activity  and  energy,  no  won 
der  that  he  took  keen  interest  in  the  matter.  Thus  you 
see  that  it  was  not  anything  extraordinary  that  your 
father,  although  a  descendant  of  two  ancient  princely 
families,  undertook  an  active  part  in  the  building  of  a 
railroad,  which  finally  ended  with  his  premature  death, 
and  also  of  his  gentle  wife.  Was  his  going  to  that  coun 
try  a  preamble  to  build  up  a  series  of  experiences  for  you? 
If  we  judge  by  cause  and  effect,  that  was  the  case.  But, 
after  all,  I  am  happy  to  say,  that  all  is  over  now.  In 
finding  you,  my  dear  child,  I  found  the  rays  of  a  new 
life  for  me,  and  let  us  hope  that  the  rest  will  go  as  pleas 
antly  as  we  deserve  after  these  years  of  sufferings  and 
disappointments." 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  evening,  but  the  joyous  spirit 
that  was  the  governing  element  now,  made  them  forget 
the  customary  rule.  They  talked  and  chatted  in  the  din 
ing  room,  where  refreshments  were  served.  Finally 
Count  Morat  arose,  wishing  all  good-night,  and  followed 
by  Mr.  Milton  and  the  Chaldean,  left  the  house. 


290 


THE  READING  OF  THE  D  O  C  U  M  E  N  T. 

"O,  what  a  glorious  day  this  was,"  said  Count  Morat, 
taking  his  seat  with  Mr.  Milton  in  the  carriage,  and 
they  drove  away. 

The  next  day  Miss  Virginia  arose  very  early.  She 
sat  in  her  window  facing  the  east,  in  order  to  witness  the 
rising  sun.  O  what  a  beautiful  day  it  was !  All  seemed 
to  her  so  different!  Even  the  glorious  sun  was  brighter 
than  usual.  The  perfume  rising  from  the  flower  beds 
below  had  an  intoxicating  quality.  The  birds  on  the 
trees  were  singing  their  song  of  spring.  Even  the  peo 
ple  passing  on  the  street  seemed  happier  and  more  cheer 
ful.  All  was  smiling,  all  was  joy.  When  she  saw  her 
room  filled  with  the  vivifying  sun-rays,  she  was  greatly 
surprised  to  find  that  all  objects  which  adorned  her 
room  were  so  pretty,  so  attractive.  She  wondered  why 
she  did  not  notice  that  before.  When  she  followed  her 
daily  occupation,  in  every  thing  she  found  something 
new.  pleasing,  enchanting,  and  her  joy  grew  as  the 
time  passed.  It  was  about  noon  time  when  Corinne  en 
tered  her  room  to  tell  her  that  Mr.  Milton  was  in  the 
parlor  waiting  for  her.  Hearing  this,  she  ran  down  like 
a  school  girl  to  meet  him. 

"How  nice  of  you  to  have  come,"  said  she,  entering 
the  parlor. 

"I  came,  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Milton,  taking  his  seat 
next  to  her  on  the  sofa,  "for  I  wanted  to  see  you  on  the 
first  day  of  your  ne\v  life.  Do  you  know,  dear  girl, 
that  you  look  today  like  sunshine?  You  are  now  as  you 
used  to  be  before  that  memorable  day.  I  do  not  need 
to  ask  you  whether  you  are  happy,  for  I  see  you  are  the 
happy  girl  of  yore." 


291 


THE    SEARCHERS. 


"Yes,  indeed,  I  am,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  smiling  with 
that  enchanting  smile  which  bewitched  her  hearer.  "The 
keeping  secret  of  a  matter  so  vital  as  that  letter  was  a 
killing  experience.  You  have  no  idea  what  it  is  to  be 
in  uncertainty,  as  my  uncle  well  said  last  night." 

"You  may  rest  assured,"  interrupted  Mr.  Milton, 
"that  I  have  a  pretty  good  idea  of  it,  for  I  have  had  a 
similar  experience  myself.  Now  that  you  know  some- 
thing  about  it,  I  expect  you  will  sympathize  with  me  and 
let  me  tell  you  my  secret  I  have  kept  all  these  years." 

"One  more  secret?"  exclaimed  Miss  Virginia,  merrily. 
"Don't  you  think  we  have  had  enough  of  secrets?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  we  have  had  enough  of  secrets  and 
mysteries,"  joined  Mr.  Milton,  pressing  her  hand  affec 
tionately  to  his  lips.  "It  is  time  that  we  should  talk 
plainly,  dear  girl." 

"Yes,  plainly;  but  people  don't  tell  their  secrets  that 
way,  do  they  ?"  said  she,  smiling  and  menacing  him  with 
her  forefinger. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  how  others  do,  but  I  will  tell  mine 
in  my  own  way.  Virginia,  you  know,  dear  girl,  I  love 
you  with  all  the  powers  of  my  heart  and  soul.  Now 
that  you  are  so  happy,  won't  you  let  me  share  that  hap 
piness  with  you?  Will  you  say,  yes—  —  ?" 

The  rest  was  said  in  such  a  whispering  tone  that  no 
one  could  have  heard  it. 

A  few  days  after,  Miss  Virginia  and  Mr.  Milton  were 
in  the  library  consulting  a  calendar  in  order  to  choose  a 
suitable  day.  It  was  a  day  which  would  mark  a  union 
of  two  noble  souls,  whose  love  was  not  a  product  of 
passion. 


292 


THE  READING  OF  THE  DOCUMENT. 


"But,  remember,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  radiant  with 
joy.  "all  our  plans  are  subject  to  the  approval  of  my 
uncle.  Do  you  consent  to  this  ?" 

"I  consent  to  anything  you  say,  sweet  girl,"  murmured 
Mr.  Milton,  pressing  her  tenderly  to  his  heart. 


293 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


EPILOGUE. 


When  the  newly-married  couple,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milton, 
nee  Princess  Muratt,  returned  from  their  two  months' 
wedding  trip,  they  were  pleasantly  surprised  in  learning 
that  Count  Morat  had  purchased  the  property  adjoining 
the  Gladston  home,  and  having  made  some  alterations  to 
suit  his  requirements,  installed  himself  there  in  order  to 
be  nearer  to  his  niece.  In  doing  this  he  simply  complied 
with  the  understanding  he  had  reached  with  her.  It  was 
a  difficult  matter  to  arrange  things  in  a  way  that  would 
be  satisfactory  to  all ;  but,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  ef 
forts  of  all  concerned  were  directed  to  the  one  and  sole 
end,  which  was  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  Miss  Vir 
ginia,  the  task  became  easier.  The  narrated  events  did 
not  change  the  attitude  Miss  Virginia  had  taken.  Dur 
ing  the  conversation  she  had  with  Mr.  Milton  on  the  day 
when  he  insisted  upon  a  plain  talk,  Miss  Virginia,  before 
signifying  her  assent,  made  it  clear  to  him,  that  any 
change  in  her  life,  which  would  interfere  with  her  as 
sumed  duties,  would  be  detrimental,  inasmuch  as  it  would 


294 


EPILOGUE. 


despoil  her  of  her  peace  and  contentment  derived  from 
the  fulfillment  of  her  promise  to  her  dying  mother. 
Knowing-  well  her  determination  on  the  subject.  Mr.  Mil 
ton  had  to  resort  to  such  an  arrangement  as  would 
meet  her  approval.  It  did  not  take  him  long  to  find  a 
combination,  which  finally  solved  the  problem  quite  sat 
isfactorily.  It  was  agreed  that  they  would  be  married 
and .  live  in  the  Gladston  home  until  the  maturity  of 
those  who  were  in  her  charge.  This  combination  pleased 
Miss  Virginia  immensely.  The  next  question  was, 
would  Count  Morat  sanction  this  ?  For,  after  all.  he  rep 
resented  her  rightful  family,  and  as  her  uncle  his  ap 
proval  certainly  was  most  necessary.  Having  obtained 
Miss  Virginia's  consent,  Mr.  Milton  did  not  delay  to 
state  his  case  to  the  Count,  who,  knowing  well  of  the 
existing  attraction  between  Mr.  Milton  and  his  niece, 
was  not  surprised  when  he  heard  what  Mr.  Milton  had 
to  say.  Following1  his  established  views,  Count  Morat 
was  of  the  opinion  that  Mr.  Milton  was  the  only  man 
who  could  aspire  to  such  a  union  and  legitimately  claim 
the  hand  of  his  niece;  for  he  knew  well  that  there  were 
no  events  which  were  not  regulated  by  lawful  causes, 
although  those  causes  invariably  remained  unknown  to 
some  men.  The  first  American  that  he  ever  had  met, 
with  whom,  seemingly  for  an  unknown  reason,  he  had 
established  a  friendly  relation,  was  Mr.  Milton.  It  was 
he  who  was  partly  the  cause  of  his  coming  to  Los  An 
geles  when  they  met  on  Lake  Tahoe.  It  was  he,  who,  by 
the  events  regulated  by  the  unseen  hand  of  an  unfathom- 
ed  destiny,  played  such  an  important  role  in  saving  the 
vital  interests  of  the  Gladston  family.  It  was  he,  who, 
by  his  incessant  care  and  friendly  advice,  encouraged 


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and  warmed  the  desolate  heart  of  a  girl,  practically  left 
alone  to  face  the  burdens  of  life  and  worldly  vicissitudes ; 
and  finally  it  was  he,  through  whom  he  first  gazed  upon 
the  long-lost  child  of  his  brother  on  the  occasion  of 
that  memorable  reception  night.  Nothing  could  efface 
from  his  memory  that  bewitching  picture  which  he  saw 
the  moment  Mr.  Milton  and  Miss  Virginia  entered  the 
parlor  together,  whither  he  was  brought  by  unseen 
power,  to  find  the  object  of  his  researches.  It  was 
then  that  the  thought  flashed  through  his  mind :  "There 
is  a  couple  which  is  destined  to  be  united."  In  the  face 
of  all  this,  could  he  refuse  his  approval  of  such  a 
union  ?  No,  he  could  not  do  that  without  offending  his 
feeling  of  gratitude  which  he  owed  Mr.  Milton,  and 
which  could  not  be  forgotten  easily.  When  he  heard  of 
the  fact,  that  his  niece  would  not  consent  to  the  marriage 
unless  she  was  to  remain  with  the  orphans  confided  to 
her  care,  he  was  radiant  with  joy.  "O,  what  a  noble 
sentiment!"  he  exclaimed,  with  ecstacy.  ''Notwith 
standing  our  utterly  materialistic  times,  when  seemingly 
the  whole  human  race  is  permeated  with  selfishness  and 
indifference  to  all  that  is  foreign  to  their  interests, 
there  are  women,  young  and  old,  for  whom  self-sacrifice, 
in  order  to  alleviate  the  burdens  of  others,  is  a  joy."  It 
was  a  joy  to  him,  also,  for  he  was  immeasurably  proud 
of  his  niece  for  her  affection  and  attachment  to  the  fam 
ily  which  was  ordained  to  be  hers  by  inscrutable  des 
tiny,  which  is  another  name  for  the  workings  of  causal 
ity. 

The  manifestation  of  such  a  sentiment,  which  aims  to 
point  out  the  sacredness  of  family  ties,  is  undoubtedly  a 
much-needed  incentive  in  our  times;  for  the  existing 


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EPILOGUE. 


social  evils,  which  mar  and  destroy  family  happiness, 
certainly  owe  their  origin  to  the  lack  of  the  sentiment 
displayed  by  the  Count  and  his  charming  niece. 

Thus,  following  the  dictation  of  his  own  heart,  Count 
Morat  hastened  to  express  his  approval  of  the  plan  pre 
sented  to  him,  and  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  his 
niece,  he  gave  his  final  sanction,  with  the  following 
stipulation,  however;  that  in  the  contract  of  marriage 
his  niece  should  figure  by  her  rightful  name,  and  not  by 
the  name  by  which  she  had  been  known  hitherto.  This 
was  done  in  order  to  establish  her  legal  rights  to  her 
patrimony.  Thus,  following  the  arrangements  made, 
the  marriage  of  Mr.  James  Milton  and  Princess  Helen 
Clementina  Muratt,  was  solemnized  with  the  full  formal 
ities  prescribed  by  law  and  the  prevailing  custom.  The 
ceremony  took  place  in  the  big  parlor  of  the  Gladston 
home,  in  the  presence  of  relatives  and  a  few  intimate 
friends,  amongst  whom  were  Dr.  Ihringier  and  Mr. 
Irving. 

Dr.  Darling  was  the  officiating  clergyman. 

When  the  happy  couple  returned  home,  Mr.  Milton 
found  his  mother  installed  in  the  room  adjoining  that  of 
Mrs.  Pratt.  The  two  ladies  being  congenial,  now  are 
enjoying  that  intimacy  which  makes  both  of  them  ex 
ceedingly  pleased  with  the  new  arrangement. 

Count  Morat,  regenerated  by  the  radiant  bliss  emanat 
ing  from  the  happy  termination  of  his  researches,  with 
contentment  and  peace  in  his  mind,  and  joy  in  his  heart, 
follows  his  studies  of  the  problems  of  life.  He  sees  his 
niece  frequently,  whom  he  calls  by  her  rightful  name, 
Helen,  and  tells  her  things  she  would  never  have  known 


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THE     SEARCHERS. 


had  it  not  been  for  the  cruelty  of  the  events  which  sep 
arated  them  years  ago. 

Charley  Gladston  has  learned  from  Count  Morat,  how 
to  value  the  deep  and  majestic  thoughts  embodied  in 
the  immortal  productions  of  Beethoven,  and  now  delights 
his  hearers  with  that  bewitching  music.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  is  nearing  the  termination  of  his  studies  in  the 
Polytechnic  High  School,  under  the  highly  efficient  su 
pervision  of  the  principal  of  that  institution,  whom  he 
greatly  admires. 

Camille,  although  only  a  lad,  evidently  has  a  soul  that 
is  old  in  matters  pertaining  to  planetary  systems,  for  he 
is  utilizing  his  experiences  of  his  former  lives  wonder 
fully  well.  He  assures  us,  that  we  are  nearing  the 
time  when  we  will  have  communications  with  the  inhabi 
tants  of  Mars,  which  seems  quite  probable.  The  man  of 
our  planet  has  succeeded  in  harnessing  the  ethereal 
waves,  and  calls  it  Wireless  Telegraphy.  The  inhabi 
tant  of  Mars  is  much  more  proficient  in  the  knowledge 
of  natural  forces,  as  a  dweller  of  an  older  planet,  and 
would  it  be  a  wonder  if  some  day  we  should  hear  of  a 
phenomenon  which  will  convey  to  us  an  intelligent  mes 
sage  from  our  sister  planet? 

The  little  Corinne  still  enjoys  the  privileges  of  a  baby. 
She  has  found  in  Count  Morat  a  good  friend,  for  he 
loves  children.  She  is  a  candidate  for  the  Marlborough 
School,  and  that  makes  her  happy. 

Yonan,  the  Chaldean,  who  now  became  a  sort  of  fac 
totum  in  the  two  adjoining  houses,  that  of  his  master 
and  that  of  his  Princess,  is  the  happiest  of  all.  He  fol 
lows  his  specialty  of  keeping  in  good  order  a  dozen 


298 


EPILOGUE. 


Turkish  pipes  for  his  master,  and  for  the  consort  of  his 
Princess. 

The  literary  gatherings  still  continue,  now  mostly  in 
Count  Morat's  house.  The  lively  discussions  which  take 
place  there  are  becoming  more  and  more  interesting. 
Through  these  discussions,  Dr.  Ihringier  has  learned 
that  although  the  father  of  the  modern  Monistic  School 
knows  a  great  deal  he  does  not  know  all.  There  are 
laws  governing  our  planet,  which  are  to  be  detected  yet, 
and  which  may  after  all  alter  the  whole  structure  of  the 
now  existing  scientific  creed.  Furthermore,  he  has  dis 
covered  that  he  has  a  soul,  and  that  his  soul  is  as  im 
mortal  as  that  of  Plato. 

Mr.  Irving  never  misses  these  gatherings.  He  is  of 
the  opinion  that  learning  is  a  good  thing-,  but  one  must 
have  gumption  in  order  to  be  able  to  digest  it. 

As  for  our  genial  Mr.  Montgomery,  after  that  memor 
able  reception  night,  when  he  was  asked  to  state  whether 
he  had  found  a  difference  between  his  man  and  the  Mal 
tese  cat,  he  made  up  his  mind,  that  he  would  punish  Miss 
Virginia  for  her  audacity  in  asking  him  such  a  ques 
tion,  by  getting  married.  In  less  than  a  month  he  found 
the  object  of  his  love  in  the  shapely  figure  of  an  actress. 
She  was  as  pretty  as  a  French  doll,  with  all  the  attrac 
tiveness  of  an  actress  who  knows  well  how  to  play  a  given 
role.  He  professes  to  be  happy  with  his  choice,  but  for 
how  long?  No  one  can  tell.  Will  a  love  actuated 
solely  by  passion  and  regulated  by  the  attractions  of 
flesh,  last  long? 

Reverend  Dr.  Darling  has  not  solved  his  problem  as 
yet.  He  has  learned  a  great  deal  since  the  day  he  be 
came  acquainted  with  Count  Morat.  but  owing  to  his 


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THE     SEARCHERS. 


prudence  in  things  human,  he  remains  in  statu  quo.  He 
admits  the  impossibility  of  knowing  an  absolute  truth, 
and  yet,  when  Sunday  comes,  he  still  preaches  what  he 
claims  to  be  the  absolute  truth. 


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